


Is It Alright If I Call Your Name?

by witchjuliana



Series: May These Days Never End [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Future chapters will have specific warnings in them, Gen, Yanderetale, bittybones au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 23:11:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6630946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchjuliana/pseuds/witchjuliana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You find him shivering in the cold, all by himself as he's abandoned by his caretaker. You don't think you can handle the responsibility, but you take him in anyway. If only the two of you were better prepared for the cruel realities of this world. Reader-insert. Based on the BittyBones AU, focusing on Ammazolie's Yandere!Sans, Brassberry. Originally posted on my Tumblr blog and ff.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Flood of Miracles Wouldn't Be Enough

Humans are exceptionally cruel, as it turns out. More so than the most scary of monsters, more frightening than the most terrifying of nightmares. Humans, in all their fleshy, selfish glory, just take what they want, and dump what they don't need.

So it's no surprise when you discover how the newest trend of "pets" were now being seen roaming the streets, abandoned by their adopters and left to fend for themselves. Despite the gentle mother reminding others to care for the BittyBones and to return them if they could no longer be cared for, some still ended up on the streets. Dumped like a box of unwanted kittens, they cried and pleaded for help, please, someone.

But no one bothered.

Eventually, the gentle mother would find them again and love and nurse them back to health, if she could find them.

However, not all BittyBones come from the same mother. There are other mothers too, who give their little ones out for adoptions.

Those are the ones you find out on the street the most. They hide in cardboard boxes, scavenging for scraps of whatever they can find, until one day, they're nothing but dust. You wish someone would help them, but really, you're no better.

You watch as they scamper from place to place, sometimes surviving, sometimes dying. But you don't do a thing. You don't think you can handle the responsibility of caring for a BittyBones, so you leave them alone, pretending not to notice the glowing eyes that follow your footsteps every time you walk back home.

You hear them crying sometimes, screaming sometimes, pleading sometimes. Those times are the worst, because you're trying to fall asleep but it's difficult to sleep past the gnawing guilt that builds up in your chest. Besides, they don't always stick around your neighborhood. After a few days or so, the voices fade away, and then you can sleep in complete bliss.

So you sleep, ignoring the cries for warmth and food. You don't need to care for them. They're someone else's problem.

/ - /

It's a rainy night. The streetlights are dim as you walk home, your boots splashing the puddles that come across your way. It's quiet, save for the pattering of the rain. It's times like these where your paranoia is at its peak - there's no telling when someone could jump out and try to mug you (but you know that's just your imagination). So you keep a wary eye out, noticing how the lights reflect off the puddles and how the moon eerily shines through the clouds.

It's cold, and you tug your coat closer around you. You enter your neighborhood, and your guard eases just enough that your shoulders relax. The rain is slowing into a drizzle as your pace slows down. It's peaceful. You begin to hum softly to yourself as you pass house after house, the lights shining through the windows as families and couples enjoy a nice dinner in the quiet of the evening.

The sounds of your footsteps and the drizzling rain almost distract you from a desperate cry coming from your left. You turn your head and watch as a tiny skeleton pounds on the door of a house.

"Mama!" He's screaming at the top of his lungs, his tiny fists pounding on the door desperately. "Mama, please, I'm sorry! Let me back in! PLEASE!" He doesn't notice you standing in front of his house, watching the spectacle with mild interest. He continues to sob and bang on the door, and you're determined to get back to your house before the pity sets in when the door opens up. A woman stands in the doorway, illuminated by the lights of her house as she snarls down at the skeleton that stands before her. He raises his arms up, as if hoping to be picked up. "Mama!"

Humans are exceptionally cruel, as you know very well.

You watch as she picks him up with a sneer, before chucking him away from her door. He lands with a heavy thud, and you're almost worried that he's going to die right in front of you. The woman laughs at his shaking form when her eyes flick up to meet yours. Contempt is bright in her eyes, and before you can even say a word, she slams the door shut.

"M-Mama… wait… I…" He pushes himself back up, slowly, painfully, and you're stuck there, rooted to the spot. "P-please… I… I love you…" He's standing up weakly and is heading his way back to the door, probably to continue his pleas for his mother to take him back in.

Your feet shift in his direction, creating a loud splash that gets his attention. He turns abruptly around, his face changing from despair, to shock, to anger. The skeleton bares his teeth at you and snarls fiercely, hunching his shoulders up and growling.

"The hell you lookin' at?!" You take a step back, staring at this tiny skeleton as he bristles with animosity. It's then that you register the jacket that he's wearing, adorned with little spikes and… are those studs on the collar? "Fuck off!" He snaps at you, and you turn away from him quickly, running away from the BittyBones as you make your way back home.

As you close the door behind you, you realize suddenly that even when he was snarling at you, he was still shaking.

/ - /

Getting the groceries is always a bore, but it's necessary for keeping you fed and alive. You're struggling with the bags when you pass by the house again. You pause in front of it, putting the bags down for a second when you hear a soft sniffling noise. When you look up, you see the skeleton sitting on the front step, hunched over and hugging his knees. The sunlight helps you notice an odd patch on his skull, reminding you briefly of a head wound as you continue to stare at it. His shoulders are shaking, and you can't help but notice that his clothes are completely soaked. The jacket gleams with the moisture that's collected on it, and his pants are clinging to his bones. You're at a complete loss as to what to do.

Standing there awkwardly, you rustle your bags loudly as you pick them up slowly. He doesn't move. You swing them on your arms for a bit, creating more noise. This time, he peeks up to see you staring at him and he lifts his head up, glaring in response.

Neither of you say a word, and quite frankly, it's very awkward.

So say something, stupid.

You clear your throat.

"Oh, ah…" Intelligent. "You know… She's not gonna let you back in, right?" He growls angrily and slams a fist on the ground.

"You don't know that!" But you do. "She'll let me back in! I know she will!" He's delusional, you conclude. You hold your hands up in a placating manner and the plastic bags dig into your arm.

"Okay, okay. No need to yell." He narrows his eye sockets and looks away, resting his skull on his arms.

"She won't leave me out here. Not forever, anyway. So beat it!" He doesn't even look up at you as he snaps, so you turn on your heel and beat it.

Whatever. He's not your problem anyway.

/ - /

It's cloudy when you head out the next day. You don't bother to pause by the house as you walk past it, ignoring the stares you feel on your back as you make your way to the bus stop. It's a boring day spent at work, and you can't help but think about the skeleton on the doorstep. You watch the weather through your window, typing away mindlessly as you think about him.

During your break, you pull up a page about BittyBones and browse through the images. None of them look like the skeleton you have hanging around the neighborhood, so you end your search and continue working.

When you get home, it's nighttime, and the sky is clear. You're tired and want to get home, so of course you stop by the house again and give it a quick glance over.

The skeleton is lying down on the doorstep, looking more battered than before. He's sleeping however, and you're not sure if you should disturb him. However, against your better judgement, you approach him quietly and pull out a spare napkin, carefully draping it on top of him. He shivers slightly and pulls it tighter around him, sleeping somewhat soundly as you continue to watch him.

Well.

It's not a newspaper, but at least it's something.

Could be worse, in your opinion.

Nodding to yourself, you step away from the skeleton and continue back home. As you walk away, an eye socket cracks open and watches your back as you quickly get off the property.

/ - /

It's been four days, and you find yourself standing in the rain in front of the house. The little skeleton is staring at you, napkin soaking wet and discarded to the side. Neither of you say a word, and so you slowly approach him. He says nothing and watches you with wary eyes.

You kneel down in front of him and hold out your hand. Neither of you break each other's gaze as the rain falls around you.

"Do you… wanna come with me?" Your voice is soft and tentative, and you're completely unprepared for the possible responsibility that comes with your words. But he's been soaked and battered for four whole days, and on closer inspection, that weird patch on his head is actually a dirty bandage, and you're not sure how long the little guy can take before turning into dust.

The least you can do is make his last moments less painful.

His eyes flicker side to side, before looking back into yours, unsure of what to do.

"She… my mama might let me back in soon." You bite your lip, because you know that he's lying to himself. She's probably kicked him at least once during the four days he's been stuck out here, and there's no way she's even considering letting him back in.

But you know he won't come with you willingly even if you told him that.

"Why not stay in a warm place until she lets you back in?" Uncertainty crosses his face, and he looks at your hand, fists clenching and unclenching as he thinks about it.

"How will she know where I am?"

"I'll leave a note." Like hell you are.

"...really?" He stares at you with tired eyes, and they search yours before he sighs and closes his eyes. "No. No, you won't." He's about to turn away when you speak up again.

"I will! I'll, I'll do it right now." You pull out a pen and an old receipt, quickly scribbling down a note telling the lady that you've got her BittyBones with you, and that she can pick him up at your address. The note is carefully tucked under the doormat, ensuring that it won't get blown away by the wind. He reads over the note slowly before looking back up at you.

You offer your hand to him again, and he searches your eyes once more.

You think he's trying to figure out what kind of monster you are, and honestly, you can't blame him. Humans can be the worst kinds of monsters sometimes.

He hesitates once, twice, before carefully placing his hand in yours. You scoop him up gently and cradle him in your arms. He's light.

"Come on. Let's get you dried up."

\ = \

Humans are exceptionally cruel, he learns quickly enough. Once you trust one of them, they turn around and break your heart, leaving you out to turn to dust because you've become a pain and a pest. The four whole days spent sitting outside his house were the worst kind of torture. He just wanted to be loved. He trusted her with all his heart.

But now? Now he doesn't know if he'll ever be okay after all of that.

The new human is bumbling about their home, picking up this thing and that, looking for something for him to wear. They were kind enough to give him a bath, cleaning the wound on his head (he had to explain that no, he didn't get that from his mama, but rather he was sort of… born with it? It's difficult to explain, he tells them) and replacing the gross bandage with a newer, uglier one. When he comments on the ugly design, they apologize and say that they don't really get bandages that often, so they just collect them from whatever their colleagues hand to them every once in awhile, noting that they swore they had one that was covered in hot dogs.

"Ah ha!" The human reappears with some small clothes, evidently belonging to a doll previously. "I used to babysit for some kids back when I had no job, and they always forgot their toys here. I've been meaning to return the dolls back to them but…" They scratch their cheek awkwardly before laughing weakly. "...it's been a whole year since I last spoke to them. I think they moved." They add the last part quietly before thrusting the clothes at him. He examines them with disinterest and notes that the clothes are made of cheap fabric that will not keep him warm. He stares up at them, doubting their ability to care for him. They sweat noticeably, and he figures that they doubt their own ability as well. He sighs and puts the doll clothing on, grunting at how the fabric rubs against his bones. It's pretty uncomfortable to wear.

It's quiet.

They both stand there awkwardly, not know what to do when the human clears their throat.

"So, do you wanna eat?"

"I haven't eaten in four days."

"Ha! H-ha, right. Yeah…" They trail off awkwardly before picking up the sentence with forced enthusiasm. "So! What do you wanna eat?"

"Raw meat."

"What?"

"Raw. Meat."

"I uh… h-huh?" They stare at him stupidly for a bit before he rolls his pupils around and sighs.

"I need raw meat. Feed me the red shit. You know, beef? I'll take that. Unless you want me to eat your flesh." He grins menacingly, showing off his sharp chompers. They gulp softly and nod quickly.

"Right! Raw meat! Because… that's normal for BittyBones to eat! Right…" As they wander off into the kitchen to get him some grub, he sits down on the table they left him on, examining his surroundings. The place is pretty plain, with only a TV, some shelves, and a couch decorating what he assumes is the living room. It's simple in design, but the layout is surprisingly similar to the cardboard house he was given when he lived with his mama. Everything was just bigger. And the TV probably worked too.

The human comes back into the room and gathers his wet clothes, leaving them on the heater to dry as he sits on their table, with nothing to do. The sound of a microwave hums in the background as they flit about the house, gathering this and that for his temporary stay. Once they finish sprucing up the couch, they pick him up and plop in a nest of pillows and a blanket. It's super comfy and something he's not used to. They turn the TV on and leave the remote next to him, before turning back to the kitchen. He wraps himself up in the blanket, enjoying the warmth and settling in comfortably into the nest, idly watching whatever was playing on the screen.

Clatters come from the kitchen, and he almost jumps when he hears a crash resounding from the other room, followed by some cursing. He watches the kitchen with apprehension until the human reappears, looking flustered while carrying a plate with slices of raw beef on it.

"Uh… So, it might still be a little frozen? I didn't want to leave it in the microwave for too long, since it might accidentally cook, and uh, I was thinking about letting it thaw out on the counter, but you looked hungry? So I wasn't sure what to do?" They set the plate down in front of him and sit down on the couch, rubbing their hands nervously and looking around their small house for something to do. He picks up a slice of meat, letting it flop about in his hands. It's warm, and the juices are slowly dribbling down onto the plate. The edges are a bit brown, but most of it is still raw so he figures that it'll do. He chomps down on the meat and begins to eat, stealing glances at the human as they twiddle their thumbs.

God they look nervous. After finishing his third slice of meat, he grunts loudly to get the human's attention, making them jump a foot into the air (he almost laughs at their reaction).

"Jesus Christ, stop actin' so nervous." They laugh nervously, completely missing the point of his statement and rub the back of their neck.

"I dunno I just… I don't know how to take care of a BittyBone so… This is all new stuff to me." They offer him a weak smile before looking away. "So um, maybe help me out? I don't really know how to take care of you. And. Stuff." He grunts and picks up the last slice of meat, chewing on it before responding to them.

"It's real easy. Just feed me and keep me warm. And clean my head injury. That's pretty much it. You don't gotta do much until my mama comes back to pick me up."

"Ah, right." There's doubt in their voice, but he chooses not to address it. For now, he's got his mind set on finishing this last piece of beef.

The TV plays softly in the room as the two sit there, letting the noise fill up the quiet space surrounding them.

\ = \

"What's your name?" The question comes suddenly one day, while he's staring out the window, hoping to see his mama walk up the driveway. He doesn't turn to face them and instead grunts out his response.

"Sans. But everyone calls me Brassberry. So I expect you will too." The low hum of the heater prevails in the room. The human's feet shuffles awkwardly on the carpet before they speak up again.

"Uh, okay. ...Do you wanna know my name?"

"I think I'll just stick to calling you 'human'. I'm not stayin' here long anyways."

"...right." They stand there a bit longer, before wandering away to what he presumes is their bedroom. They don't bother him again until dinner time.

\ = \

It's been a whole week since she kicked him out of the house. Even though he begged her not to throw him out, she did just that, saying that if he didn't learn to man up and stop being such a needy little brat, then he'd never be allowed back inside. He wasn't sure how or when he was supposed to be let back in, but on the second day of being left on the doorstep, she kicked him aside and told him that she didn't need layabouts like him around anymore, and for him to beat it before she beat him to dust.

She was just angry, he thinks. This happens a lot, with her screaming and taking her anger out on him. However, this was the first time she threw him outside to rot, and he could only hope that she found the note and was taking the time to calm down.

It was only a matter of time. He repeats the sentence over and over again in his mind, watching the window vigilantly with the hope that she'll come for him. Even if she was mean sometimes, he still loved her, and there isn't a single day where he misses being in her presence.

"Brassberry?" The other human calls out to him, holding a cupcake in one hand. "Do you want a snack?" He glances at them from the side and gives a short nod. They walk over quietly and place the cupcake down in front of him. There's a beat of hesitation, before they kneel down to his eye level and rest their head on their hands. "...no sign of her?"

"Not yet. But she'll come. Soon." They don't say anything in response, and instead stay there watching the window with him. It's quiet as they watch the world outside go about its business, and the cupcake they got for him is sweet and yummy. It tastes fresh, something he's not used to since all his mama ever got him were the stale cupcakes.

"Do you wanna do anything?"

"No. I want to stay here."

"Okay."

"..she'll come for me soon. She has to." He hugs his knees closer to his chest as he rests his head on them. There's a beat of silence, and then he feels something warm and comforting cup his entire back.

"I know." The human gently strokes his back, and he bites back the tears that threaten to escape his sockets as they continue to be kind to him. "I know."

\ = \

It's been two weeks. And still no sign of mama. He barely moves from the windowsill, and the human has to carry him from place to place, getting him to open his jaw in order to coax him into eating something, anything, and having to lift his limp limbs in order to wash him. He's giving up hope on ever seeing his mama again. She doesn't want him. He wasn't good enough. She probably hates him. She wants him dead. He should have just died on her doorstep instead of letting the other human take him to their place.

He's miserable.

The human shuffles about the house, trying to find new ways to engage him. He hears them pick things up and put them down, muttering to themselves and stealing glances towards him in worry. Why should they care about him? He belongs to someone else, not them.

"Brassberry?" They call out to him, but he doesn't respond. Instead, he buries his face between his knees and heaves a great sigh. Just let him die already.

"...Brassberry?" They call out softer this time. He curls up into a tighter ball and refuses to acknowledge them.

Silence.

Just when he thinks the human will finally leave him alone to waste away, a pair of hands gently scoop him up from his perch, and he finds himself cradled against their chest.

"Come on," they say. "Let's go watch a movie." The human lays down on the couch and adjusts him so that he's sprawled out on top of them, head facing the TV as they turn it on and switch it to the DVD menu. They press a few buttons on the remote and soon enough, a movie plays out on the screen.

It's called _Titanic_ , and he watches the movie play out with disinterest, not bothering to keep up with the characters and plot. However, when one of the characters dies, he feels tears streaming down his face. He rubs them away vigorously, only to have more tears flow out, and soon enough, he's full on sobbing on the human, curling up on their chest as they comfort him and hold him close.

He cries for the rest of the night, clinging to their shirt as he wheezes. He doesn't get why he's crying honestly, he gives zero shits about the characters, but once that one guy just lets himself sink into the ocean, his chest starts to hurt and he finds himself bawling his eye sockets out. Nothing makes sense to him, but the only thing he knows for sure is that he's hurting a lot.

The human lets him weep on top of them, stroking his skull and back until he calms down. He's completely spent from his breakdown, and the human gently moves him up so that he's resting his cheekbone on their neck. A blanket is pulled up to cover them both, and the TV is turned off.

"...Night, Brassberry." The human gives him one gentle pat on the back as he closes his eye sockets. The crickets outside the window chirp melodically, and it helps lull him to sleep.

\ =\

It's three weeks since he's been abandoned, and the human is trying to figure out how to make the living room more livable for him. He watches from the windowsill as they drag a huge box in, looking highly displeased with it. They glance up at him and look sheepish, before gesturing down at it.

"I kinda figured you'd want some privacy, but I didn't think a cage would be really… fitting for you, you know? Cages are for pets, and you're sorta… Not? Really? One?" Technically he is, but he won't tell them that. Even though it'll be funny to watch them go through a moral dilemma, he does want some privacy since there's no telling when they'll walk into the living room when he's relieving himself. He huffs and gestures at the box.

"And what makes you think a box is any better?" They bite their lip and oh, he can just tell that he already missed out on an internal struggle earlier.

"W-well… We can decorate it! I have some paint, and it's big enough that we can make a second floor with some of that thin wood stuff that they have." Thin wood stuff? Okay.

"Do you really think a cardboard box is gonna handle wood that easily?"

"Mmmm…" He takes that as a no and shakes his head.

"Nevermind. The box will do-"

"No!" He jumps, and the human covers their mouth in shock. "Oops, um, sorry! We can just, make you a house? I mean, I have some spare cash, it probably won't be that hard. Plus, I have neighbors who could help us out if we ask nicely enough. And it'll be sturdy! With no flimsy wood!" He sighs and crosses his arms.

"Alright. But it better be decent looking."

\ =\

It takes some time and a lot of help, but they finally finish making the house (really, it's a DIY dollhouse, but he can't be picky about everything). It's a bit misshapened and some of the edges still need to be sanded down, but there's a little door that he can open and a whole entire side that swings open so that the human can put in furniture for him and help him decorate it. He won't admit it, but he's really fucking excited to get to the painting part. They had left earlier that day to go to the hardware store, picking out colors for his house and its rooms, and he was hellbent on making sure that his house looked really fucking cool when they were done with it. The human covers the ground with newspaper, setting the paints and house on top of it before grabbing Brassberry to start the painting.

By the time they finish, it's dark out and the house looks like an absolute mess of colors and designs.

And he absolutely loves it.

"Holy fucking hell this looks great." The human looks at him completely unsure of his statement.

"...Really?"

"Hell yes."

"But… It looks like some edgy monster vomited all over it. Holy crap it looks dark. Do you think we can work lights into this…?" The human starts muttering to themselves about lighting and considers going back to the hardware for advice and ideas, completely forgetting about Brassberry as he basks in the greatness that is his house.

This beats the old cage his mama got for him.

The human keeps muttering, frowning down at the house as they tap their chin thoughtfully. They completely miss the growling sound that's coming from their stomach, biting their knuckle as their eyebrows bunch together in thought. Brassberry, however, doesn't miss the sound, and he tugs on the hem of their shirt, trying to get their attention.

"Hm?" The human looks down at him. "What is it?"

"We need to eat."

"What?"

"We need. To _eat_."

"..." They blink in confusion before the statement sinks in. "Oh. Oohhh. Yes. Right. Food." He rolls his pupils around as they pick him up, carrying him into the kitchen. "After dinner, I think we should take a shower." Their paint covered clothes match his, and he's glad that he removed his jacket before he started to paint. He huffs out a laugh and nods in agreement.

"Yeah. We probably should." The human looks down at him in shock and smiles brightly.

Halfway through dinner, he realizes that this was the first time since he lived with his mama that he laughed out loud. No wonder the human smiled.

\ =\

By the end of the fourth week, they've gotten all the furniture and Christmas lights they need to spruce up his house. His house sits against the wall, and the lights connect to an extension cord equipped with a switch so that he can have the lights on whenever he so pleases. He's got his own bed, a table, a miniature bookcase to hold whatever trinkets he gets his hands on, a makeshift closet, and additional clothing that's not irritating to wear and hard to move in.

They bought nearly everything at the toy store, and it was fan-fucking-tastic. He had never seen someone so disturbed by dolls before, and it was hilarious watching them shriek when a doll started babbling at them suddenly.

It totally wasn't his fault.

The two of them are celebrating with cheap Chinese take-out and a movie of Brassberry's choosing. It's some gory thriller called _Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ , and he's having the time of his life watching the human staring at the screen in horror, noodles spilling from their mouth as they press themselves closer against the couch.

"Why did I think it was a good idea to let you pick the movie?" They whisper softly to themselves, dinner completely forgotten as he snorts at their expression of terror. A scream erupts from the screen, and the human cries out in turn. He laughs at their fear, earning a weak glare from them as they try to focus on their dinner.

By the time the movie is finished, the couch is covered in noodles and rice, courtesy of the human's constant jumping and shrieking. They help him down onto the ground and set to work on cleaning the couch as best they can while Brassberry mills around. He wants to help, but everything is too big for him, and echoes of what his mama told him before still resound as he looks up at the human struggling to get some rice out from the cushions.

"Jesus, I am never watching a horror movie ever again while eating rice-"

"Hey."

"Hm?" They look down at him, their expression turning triumphant when they pull out a few grains of rice. "What is it?"

"Is there… anything I can do to help?" They blink a few times before smiling.

"Brassberry, you don't have to-"

"Please." The human looks taken aback, and he looks off to the side, refusing to meet their gaze. "Just… Just let me help."

"Al-alright then. Um, can you get me that plastic bag over there?" He nods and quickly fetches it, pulling it over to them as they free some more grains of rice. "You can collect whatever food's on the ground and put it in there. I'm pretty much done with the couch, so we can just put all the trash in there."

"Okay." He starts to clean the floor of food and dumps them in the bag. While they pick up the empty boxes Together, they finish cleaning the mess the human had made in all their flailing and dispose of the trash. The human dusts off their hands and smiles down at him.

"A job well done! I think it's time for us to sleep. See ya in the morning!" They walk off in the direction of their room, waving back at him as they leave.

"Night." He makes his way to his house and goes up the plastic stairs, settling down in his bed and falling asleep.

" _You piece of trash!"_

" _Useless!"_

" _Stop being so fucking needy!"_

" _The hell is wrong with you?"_

" _Can't do anything fucking right."_

" _Go to your own bed!"_

" _GET OUT!"_

He jolts awake, sweat pouring down his skull as he clutches his blankets. The words ring in his skull, and they sound so real, so recent, that he has a hard time catching his breath, and he needs, he needs SOMETHING. It's too dark, and he can feel the darkness creeping up on him, threatening to snuff him out, and suddenly everything's too cold and his shirt feels wet and he needs help, someone help, please don't leave him ALONE HE'S SO _SCARED_ , MAMA _PLEASE_ -

He tumbles out of bed and sprints down the stairs. Stumbling, he trips his way out of his house and races towards the human's room. The door is wide open, and the human is snoring peacefully on their bed as he climbs his way up to them. He's tempted to just curl up next to them, but images of his mama screaming at him when she found him sleeping next to her fill him with apprehension, so he presses his shaking hands against them and gently shakes them. The human opens their eyes and blinks blearily, turning their head and looking around for what woke them. He gulps and shakes them again, drawing their gaze towards them.

"Brass…?" They mumble out the first part of his name before scooping him into their hands and bringing him closer to their face. Squinting, they wipe away the tears that had streaked down his face, unnoticed by him while he was panicking in fear. "Hey buddy, what's wrong?" Now that he's here, he's filled with embarrassment once he realizes that he let his fear get the better of him. His mama's voice can be heard as clear as day, sneering at him for showing weakness.

"I- ...it's n-nothing. Sorry for waking you up." He tries to shove their finger away, but they keep a firm grip on him, preventing him from making his getaway.

"Hey now, I'm already awake, so you might as well tell me." Their voice is soft and gentle, and their fingers are stroking his back in comfort. He looks away, refusing to face them as he mumbles out his reply.

"I said it was nothing. I'll just go back to my bed-"

"Did you have a nightmare?" Surprised, he looks at them in shock, and they smile kindly at him, hugging him close to their chest. "It's okay, I get those too. It must have been real bad if it made you come here." They roll onto their back and close their eyes, relaxing their hold on him as they let out a soft sigh. "You can sleep here. I don't mind. It'll be a lot better than going back to your room in the dark…" They yawn and press him closer to their side, already drifting back to sleep. "Night, Brass…"

"..." He remains there, pressed against their side as he watches the slow rise and fall of their chest in the dark. It's not something he wants to admit, but he's relieved that they didn't yell at him and that they're letting him sleep in their bed after waking them up like that. No use in going back after they offered, right? Plus, he was already feeling tired again, so he crawls under the covers and snuggles up against them, grunting when he feels their arm curl around him.

It feels… nice.

He relaxes in their sleepy embrace and falls asleep.

\ =\

It's been a solid month and a half since his abandonment. Living with this new human made him realize just how stressed out he was living with his mama. Here, he doesn't have to watch what he says or does around them. They just smile and laugh, shrugging his jabs and insults aside as they chatter with him. The two of them can go through a conversation without them screaming at him in the end, which is a nice change of pace from his mama. Very rarely do they get upset with him, and when they do, they just scold him and revoke his TV time for a bit, before relenting the next day once he apologizes.

They're nice and kind. He finds himself relaxing around them and missing their presence when they go to work. Luckily, they give him a spare phone they had lying around. It's old as hell and barely works, but it can connect to the internet, and he finds himself browsing the web and reading up on the latest urban and supernatural tales (he tries to convince them that the sasquatch is real, but they just shrug his concerns off, stating that they live far enough away from the mountains that the creature won't find them. plus, they heard the sasquatch is pretty nice, so there's no worries about getting attacked by it. slenderman on the other hand...)

Even though he's relaxed and calmer than ever before, he sometimes watches the human stagger into the house, looking exhausted and spent. It concerns him when they come home like this, as they always look ready to pass out and never wake up again. They never tell him what it is at work that stresses them out, but once they see him waiting on the coffee table, their face lightens up and they focus all their attention on him. He figures out that being around for them is enough to make them feel better, so he goes on to tell them what he heard about some of the figures he learned about, like Jeff the Killer or the Rake. They always listen with an intrigued face, so he continues to ramble on, reminding them to lock the doors and close the shades at night, just in case.

Imagine his surprise when they come home later than usual, opening the door with incredible difficulty as they giggle out a "ha'lo". He watches them with a raised brow, putting the phone down and watching them with concern.

"Uh, hi?"

"Brassy!" They slam the door shut, flinching when it closes before stumbling over to him, placing their head on the table and laughing like an idiot.

"...Brassy?" That's a first.

"Brassy c'mere lemme givechu some chuchuus." They reach for him as he backs away from their drunken flailing.

"Hell no! 'Choochoos'? What the fuck is that?!" The human drops their hands onto the table and pouts, looking at him with their eyes impossibly round.

"Chuuuu. Like kisses, but anime style!"

"The hell?"

"Braaassyyyyyyyy." He lets out a loud groan and walks back to their face, pushing at their cheek as they whine.

"Get to bed, you drunk." Before he can react, they wrap their arms around him, successfully trapping him in their embrace and nuzzling their cheek against his.

"Gotchuuuuuu!" They press a big, wet, sloppy kiss on half of his face before snuggling their head again under his chin and pressing their forehead against his sternum. Brass didn't think the position they were in was very comfortable, but he found himself petting their head anyways, seeing as he couldn't move.

"...ve…"

"Hm?" The human adjusts the position of their head so that they were resting their cheek on the table and mumbles louder for him to hear.

"Iiiii wuv youuuuu."

"..oh my God." They giggle in response, wrapping a hand around him and keeping him in place, humming softly as they sat there. Brass cleared his throat and patted their hair. "You should really get to bed."

"Haaaaa carry me."

"Are you fucking serious right now? I'm the size of your goddamn cups."

"Braaaasssyyy!" They whine loudly, making him groan in response. "M'room is too far awaaii."

"Fine, just! Sleep, on the couch. Right now." A low hum is his response as they sluggishly scootch closer to the couch, Brassberry held tightly in their hands as they climb onto their temporary bed. As they roll onto their side, they cuddle Brass close to them, nuzzling against his skull with a content sigh.

"Luv you."

"Okay. Go to sleep."

"Okay." They curl up around him, snoring lightly as he's held in their arms. He stays awake a little longer, before pressing a tentative kiss against their arm.

They're nothing like his mama, and for that, he's grateful.

\ =\

They come home drunk a lot more often after that. It's not bad, per se, as they tend to be very loving and emotional when they see him, often peppering him with kisses and repeating drunken "I love you"'s until they pass out on the couch. But it's been happening more and more often, which is starting to concern Brass.

When they come home drunk a fifth time that week, Brass is determined to get the truth out of them. Draping themselves over the table once more, they make vague grabby motions towards him when he shoves their hands away. They look up at him, eyes filled with hurt and confusion.

"Brassy?"

"Why are you drunk nowadays?" They grin widely and rest their chin on top of their hands.

"'Cause it's fun being drunk, hehe."

"But why now?"

"Why not?" For someone who was drunk, they were pretty evasive with their answers. Brass groans and sits down in front of their face. They blow some air into his face, laughing when he glares at them.

"You weren't getting drunk before. What changed?" They hum softly before turning their face away from him.

"Stuff."

"Stuff?"

"I don't gotta tell ya." It occurs to him that they might not be as drunk as they seem, but rather buzzed and were pretending to be shitfaced. ...Why the fuck?

"Hey. How much did you drink?" A low whine escapes their throat as they hide their face from him.

"...Enough."

"So you're not actually drunk then."

"I am!"

"Stop fucking lyin'." They flinch at his words, fingers gripping the sleeves of their dress shirt tightly. "...Why are you pretending to be drunk?" He waits patiently for a response before he hears a tired sigh, and the human shifts so that they rest their cheek on their arms.

"Y'know how if you pretend really hard about somethin', you start ta believe it?"

"Sorta."

"Well, that's what I'm doin'. Sorta. Kinda did drink. Just enough to feel tipsy or buzzed. If I drank anymore I probably wouldn't make it back home. But like." They wave a hand around in the air. "I _want_ to be drunk. Cause it helps me loosen up and shit. Y'know, more confidence and shit. Ferget 'bout all the bad stuff fer a bit. Let's me pretend that I don't reme'ber what I did or said when I was 'drunk'. Let's me pretend that I forgot what happened durin' the day." It's vague and hard to grasp, but Brass thinks he's got a better understanding about why they're so bent on pretending to be drunk and takes a guess as to what's been going on with them.

"...Work that bad?" They freeze up at his words and lower their hand.

"..."

"You can tell me."

"...Do you actually care though?" They turn their head to look at them, eyes tired and bloodshot, and he's not sure if their eyes are red because of a lack of sleep or because they've been crying. He leans forward, looking them straight in the eyes.

"Of fucking course I do. Why else would I be interrogating you?" The human blinks slowly before a laugh escapes them. He watches as the laughs become hysterical, before slowly dissolving into a sob, and the human hides their face from him as though ashamed to be crying in front of him. A hand comes up and buries itself in their hair, and he watches in shock as they tug harshly at their hair as they continue to weep. He bolts up and grabs their hand, pulling it away from their hair and detangling the strands of hair that managed to be yanked out by their tugging. "Hey hey! Stop that! Don't do that to yourself!" The hand falls limply to the table, and he waits for the sobs to calm down. Slowly, they lift their head up and he figures that yeah, their eyes are red because they've been crying and his chest constricts when he realizes that they've been crying for who knows how long, and he's only just noticed now. He leans against their arms and gently wipes their face with his jacket's sleeve.

It's quiet, save for the human's occasional sniffle, and when they finally speak up, their voice is cracked and thick as they struggle to keep it leveled.

"D-do you… really mean that?" They're staring straight into his eye sockets, as if searching for a lie or motive behind his words. Even Brass begins to question himself, wondering if he really does care about this human whose name he refused to learn.

But a feeling of warmth arises when he remembers all the human has done for him without prompting, and he smiles as the words fall easily from his mouth.

"Yeah, I do." He hugs their face and presses a skeleton kiss on their forehead before leaning his cheekbone against them. The human's breathing hitches, and he can feel the tears escaping from their eyes again. "I care. So it's okay."

They sit there for the rest of the night, and Brass doesn't think once about his mama for the first time since he was abandoned.

\=\

Slowly, he finds out more about the human who took him in. He learns that their job tends to get horribly busy during this time of year, and their boss becomes increasingly more agitated as the season progresses. It leads to their boss lashing out at everyone, including them. Lately, they've been the sole target of their boss' frustration and anger. It makes him angry, thinking about all the shit their boss puts them through just because couldn't work fast enough to satisfy their needs.

Then he learns that the human had been hurt before by people they trusted, and it's been an ongoing circle of trust lost and trust regained, but in the end, the human had ultimately closed themselves off from other people. It explains the lonely state the house was in when he first arrived. No one comes to visit them, and the human was strangely okay with that.

He comes to the conclusion that he may be the only companion the human has had in a long time, and this information makes him try harder to keep his human from falling apart before his eyes as they struggle to keep it together.

The plus side is that they've started coming home less buzzed. The downside was that they'd immediately lock themselves in their room to try and cry out their stress. It never worked though, and they'd leave their room looking more tired and stressed than before. So he's taken to asking for hugs the minute they step into the house, taking the moment to climb onto their shoulders once they sweep him into a tight hug. With him riding along, they're less likely to run off into their room to hide and cry.

Today was one of those days, where he diligently climbed onto their shoulder after a hug was given. He pats their cheek to get their attention and points to the kitchen.

"Come on. We need dinner."

"Oh, right."

"I wanna watch a movie tonight too."

"Hmm… Okay."

"You can pick tonight, since I already picked yesterday."

"Okay." As they move about the house getting dinner and the movie ready, he talks about Slenderman and the videos he watched that proved his existence. They give him a dry chuckle, stating that they were probably safe from him since they weren't a kid. Once they both settle down on the couch, movie playing quietly in the background as they eat, Brass taps their knee for their attention. "Hmm?" They look at him with noodles hanging from their mouth.

"Hey. I uh, you don't need to be worried about Slendy." They slurp up the noodles and turn their attention back to the movie.

"Why's that?"

"Cause I'd protect you." This makes them pause in their dinner, turning to him in surprise.

"...You?"

"Yeah." He shoves some food in his mouth to hide the fact that he was blushing a bit. "I know I'm small, but I can do some really cool shit. I mean, I'm a fucking magical skeleton, so I have to do something cool." They chuckle softly, this time more genuine and pleased than before. He turns to see them smiling happily at him.

"Alright. I'll depend on you then." It takes a while, but he returns the smile and goes back to finishing his dinner.

Briefly, he wonders if it's normal for BittyBones to take care of their caretakers as well.

(he begins to wonder when he considered the human to be his caretaker)

\=\

It's been three months since they've been living together, and he and the human were attempting to bake a cake with mixed results.

"I'm tellin' you, if you just mixed in some meat into the batter it'll taste fucking awesome."

"That sounds gross."

"People drizzle chocolate on chicken, so why not beef in cake?"

"Hmm, if we do that, then you and the cake will have something in common."

"And what's that?" The human looks down at him, flour dusting their hands as they point fingerguns at him and waves them up and down.

Oh no.

"You'd both be… beefcakes!" He bites down on the piece of raw meat he was holding in his hands to hide his snickers, because that totally WASN'T funny and NO he wasn't LAUGHING he was just exercising his RIBS. Once he stops shaking, he looks at them with the most unimpressed stare he could manage. The shit-eating grin on their face just grows bigger as he continues to stare.

"I'm a fucking skeleton. I don't have muscles." The eyebrows on their face rise as the grin on their face grows impossibly bigger.

"Okay but DICKS-"

"We are NOT discussing this-"

"DICKS ARE MUSCLES!"

"Oh my GOD-"

"And you have one!"

"Do NOT-"

"Therefore, you HAVE muscles-"

"Those are fake!"

"I dunno man they seemed real to me I mean-"

"SHUT." At that, the human dissolves into unrestrained guffaws as they grip the countertop tightly, an arm curled around their waist as they double over in laughter. He's supposed to be feeling really embarrassed by the conversation that just took place, but he's fighting to keep the silly grin off his face as he peers over the edge to look at them squatting on the floor, unable to stand due to the howls of laughter escaping them. They wheeze and gasp as they shake their head, clearing their throat as they try to compose themselves.

"I-I dunno man, but you've got the cutest little weewee I've ever seen. I mean." They giggle as they look up at him "It's so small! So cute, very adorable."

"...I'm putting the meat in, right now."

"Aww, don't be a… little dick!" Ooohh, that's it. He picks up an egg and holds it over them.

"This is it. Say goodbye to your hair because it's going to be covered in chicken liquid. Any last words?" The human's eyes are wide as they stare at their hair's impending doom before he sees a glint in their eye and he wishes he was bigger because-

"You really CRACK me up, Brass!" -HE WOULD BE ABLE TO DROP MORE EGGS ON THEM.

"BYE!" He drops the egg, and it breaks weakly on their head, rolling off them and landing on the ground with a splat. Damn, the height just wasn't enough to do any lasting damage. The human laughs hysterically yet again, and he starts tossing the raw meat into the batter as revenge. As the human starts to slowly pull themselves off the ground, they hear the doorbell ring. They share a confused look before the human dusts their hands and gently pat his head.

"I'll go get it. You can finish adding the- oh my God you seriously put meat in the batter." He laughs at their horrified stare and he picks up a spoon to start mixing the ingredients together.

"More for me then. Go get the door." A strangled cry escapes them as they walk over to the door, opening it. He hears muffled talking as he looks over the recipe when a resounding slap is heard, and the human lets out a sharp yelp. Brass drops everything with wide eyes as he looks in the direction of the door.

Someone… slapped the human.

Someone slapped them.

HIS human.

Anger courses through his bones as he jumps from the countertop to a chair and then onto the floor. No one is allowed to hurt them! He can make out yelling as he races into the living room, skidding to a halt when he sees someone grabbing his human by the front of their shirt.

"What the HELL do you think you're-?!" He stops mid-sentence, fear replacing the anger as he stares up at the figure that was manhandling his human.

She stares down at him with a sickly sweet smile.

"Berry!"

It was his "mama".


	2. To The You Who Has To Leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Contains physical abuse, manipulation, gore/bodily mutilation, and a violent alcoholic.

She isn't supposed to be here.

Why is she here?

And WHY is she grabbing his HUMAN like that?

His "mama" shoves his human away, bending down to grab him.

"I've come to take you back! Aren't you happy?"

He isn't.

He's scared shitless.

"Don't TOUCH HIM!" His human screeches at her, grabbing her from the back of her shirt and yanking her away.

"You little FUCKER!" She turns and socks his human in the jaw, making them stagger back in pain. It's then that he snaps out of it, because how dare _she._

"LEAVE THEM ALONE!" He screams at the top of his lungs, running between her legs and standing in front of his human protectively. His human grabs him quickly and curls around him before either he or his "mama" can do anything. He hears her howl in frustration before a jolt shakes his human's body, resulting in them shuddering in pain.

She is _kicking_ them. A roar of anger rips from his throat as he struggles to escape the protective hold they've got on him.

"Brass, no!"

"Let me go!"

"Berry get OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!" She grabs his human's hair and yanks their head up, making them cry out in pain. "We are going home right now, and this little shit isn't going to stop me!" His human reaches a hand up and digs their nails into her arm, leaving deep scratches as she shrieks in pain and releases them. Taking the chance, his human pushes off the floor and shoves past her in a mad dash towards the door. Brass is cradled against their chest as they run, only to have them yelp as the bitch grabs their shirt.

"You're not getting him back!"

"He's not yours!"

"You don't deserve him!"

"I adopted him! He belongs to me!"

"He doesn't belong to anyone!" His human attempts to turn and backhand her, but she catches their hand and twists their arm instead. They yelp in pain and crumple to the floor, still holding onto him tightly. "G-go away! He's not some toy you can claim!" He clings onto their shirt as he glares at his former caretaker, baring his teeth at her. She looks down at him and glares.

"He IS, and I have the papers to prove it!" She reaches down to grab him, but he bites down on her hand instead and prevents her from taking him away.

"Fuck off!" He growls at her as she curses and lets go of his human. They scoot backwards away from her and smack into a wall, hugging him close to their chest as they glare at her. He can feel them trembling against him however, and despite the gusto they were putting forth to protect him, he could tell just how terrified of her they really were. It only serves to make him angrier, and he struggles to escape their grip yet again.

"Brass, please, no!"

"Let me fight her!" She laughs at him, waving dismissively at his declaration.

"You? Fight me? When did you suddenly grow balls?" His hate for her increases by tenfold as she continues to sneer at him. He needs to protect his human, but he can't do that when their death grip is keeping him from doing anything. She scoffs at the two of them, turning away and examining the house.

"Get outta here, you bitch!" Her head turns quickly to stare at him, anger clear in her eyes as she frowns. Laughter rings throughout the air as she places her hands on her hips, shaking her head as blood from the scratches starts to drip down her wrist.

"Who are you callin' a bitch?!" She snaps at him, making his human cower more as they hunch around him. A low growl escapes him as he tries to reassure his human, patting their cheek as he glares at her. She's returned to examining the place when her eyes land on the misshapen house sitting against the wall. Walking towards it, she gives it a little kick before turning to grin maliciously at the two of them. "No wonder you wanna stay here so bad! They've been spoilin' you so good that you don't want to leave them. How _pathetic_." She snorts and approaches them, kneeling down in front of his human as she tips their chin up, forcing them to meet her eyes. When they avert their eyes, she slaps them hard across the face. "Look. At. Me."

He wants to tear her apart and kill her as he feels his human's trembles worsen. When a whimper escapes them, he wants nothing more than to get them away from her as quickly as possible. But being pressed up against a wall leaves no room for escape, and he gets the feeling that they've lost the courage to fight back against her. They put up a brave face anyway, glaring at her with all their might as they squeeze him closer to them.

"Wh-what do you want?" The words come out in a hiss and he wraps his small phalanges around their fingers, giving them a reassuring squeeze as they fight to keep under control.

"Let me make this clear." She traces her finger down the side of their face, making them shiver involuntarily. "I have papers to prove that he belongs to me. Either you give him back to me, or I press charges and sue your little ass. Do you wanna go to court? I can assure you that I've got the money needed to get the best lawyer out there." They spit in her face.

"Fuck you." She screeches at them and slaps them again, this time raking her nails across their cheek as she does so. The force of the slap makes them fall onto their side, a shaky hand reaching up to their face only to find it smeared with blood. "A-ah…" His eye sockets widen and he glares at her from their arms.

"You fuckin' BITCH!" She kicks his human in retaliation, snarling as she turns her attention back to him.

"Callin' me a bitch again, huh? It's not like you can do any better than name calling, you worthless piece of fuck!" With a harsh shove, he wriggles free from his human's hold and stands in front of them, left eye glowing teal as a whispy trail arises from his magic. A vase hovers menacingly next to him as he growls at her.

"Why do you even want me back huh? It's been three goddamn months and you're only coming back for me now? Are you kiddin' me?!" He chucks the vase at her, watching in frustration as she barely manages to duck out of the way. It crashes against the wall, shattering as he pulls another object towards him. A plate zooms out of the kitchen and hangs above him as he holds his glare steady.

"B-Brass…" His human is looking on with terrified eyes, glancing from him to his former caretaker with unease. Said woman takes the moment to grab something and ends up holding the old phone that his human had given to him. She stares at the outdated design and smirks.

"Maybe you haven't been living in the lap of luxury after all… Hey, come back with me and I'll give you a better phone than this piece of trash." The plate goes soaring towards her, and she sidesteps it just time. The shards join the vase's remains as she throws the phone at Brass in retaliation. It flies over his head, missing him completely but beaning his human instead. They yelp in pain, and he turns in their direction with worry.

"Are you okay?!" He should have caught that with his magic, but instead he let it hit them like it was nothing. They nod and reach for him, but he pushes their hand away and shakes his head. Before he can get a word out, his human looks up and yells, lunging over him as he hears something whistle in the air. A harsh thump is heard as his human gasps, and woman chuckles.

"Wow, they're taking so many blows for you Berry! Makes me wonder what else I can do to them."

"No don't-!" She grabs his human and yanks them away from him, an arm wrapped around their neck as they back up towards the front door. He screams as his magic picks up on all the shards that litter the house, tears streaming from his eyes because she can't TOUCH THEM DON'T TOUCH THEM STOP IT STOP IT-

"Let's make a deal." She tightens her grip on his human, causing them to cough as they struggled to breathe.

"Br-Brass…" Rage seeps into his magic as the shards hover dangerously closer to the pair of them.

"Let. Them. _Go._ "

"Only if you come back with me."

"Ferget it!" A shard flies towards her out of anger, and she twists his human around to make them face the brunt of the attack, the shard embedding itself into their face. A strangled cry escapes their lips as she tears the shard out of their face. Brass backs up in horror, watching as the blood drips down their face. "N-no, I didn't mean to-"

"You see, Brass? You did this to them. You're the one that's _hurting them_." His human widens their eyes and shakes their head furiously.

"No! No you're not! Brass, don't listen to them! It's not your fault!" But he can't believe them, not when there's blood on their face from HIS attack. The shards waver in the air as his gaze switches from them to his former caretaker.

"Come to think of it, you haven't gotten hurt once! It was always _them_ taking the blows for you. You really can't do anything right, can you?"

"BRASS!" His gaze falls down to his feet as the shards clatter noisily around them. "BRASS NO, DON'T LISTEN TO THEM!"

"Shut the fuck up!" She claps a hand over their mouth as they struggle in her grasp. "Listen Berry, if you really care about them, you'd be coming with me to keep them safe. That way, you wouldn't be hurting them anymore." His human protests from behind her hand as Brass approaches his former caretaker with reluctance. "That's a good boy- AGH!" His human bites down her hand and steps on her foot, clawing desperately at her arm to get her to let them go. With a jerk of their head, they smack the back of their head into her face, causing her to let go of them. They scoop up Brass and clutch him tight to their chest, growling at her as they hug him protectively.

"He's not going back to you! He deserves to be treated better after what you did to him!" Brass looks up at them, staring at the cuts that covered their face. The bitch lunges towards them, wrapping a hand roughly around him as best as she could. His human yells and starts to shove her off when he speaks up.

"Stop it." They pause and look down at him in shock, their eyes wide as they continue to struggle against her.

"What?"

"I said. Stop. It." He can hear the hitch in their voice before he sees the tears forming in their eyes.

"I-... I don't understand, Brass, she's trying to-!"

"I'm going back to her." Everything seems to freeze as the words hang in the air. The lady backs away with a triumphant smirk, waiting for them to react. Their body shudders as they try to keep from crying. They hold onto him desperately, looking down into his face to search for a reason for his sudden change in motives.

"Brass, you can't go back to her! She-she's going to treat you bad again!" He looks away to avoid staring into their watery eyes, and instead focuses his attention on the smug woman in front of him.

"Please. Put me down."

"Brass, I can't do that! I won't let you-!"

"I said, put me _down._ " He growls at them for the first time since they met, and they whimper in shock.

"...N-no." Of all the times that he has to deal with their stubborn side, it has to be today. With a sigh, he bites down harshly into their arm, making them cry out in pain and instinctively let him go. He falls to the ground with a thump, and before they have the chance to pick him up again, the lady swoops down and snatches him up. His human lets out a cry more pained than the previous one and reaches for him, tears streaming down their face as they try to take him back. "No no no! No give him back! He's not yours!" She snorts and slaps their hands away.

"Please, he doesn't want to be with you anymore. Can't you see? He wants to be with me now."

"You're WRONG! He hates you! You've done nothing but hurt him!"

"Everything I did, I did to make him stronger. Now look at him, he actually fought back for once! Therefore, my methods worked, and it's time for him to return home with me."

"YOU CAN'T TAKE HIM AWAY!" They scream in her face and attempt to wrench her fingers off of Brass when his hand comes down to slap their fingers away. Their hand jerks back, as though the slap seriously hurt them. "B-Brass?" The hurt in their voice pains him, and he refuses to look into their eyes as he takes a deep breath in.

He has to do this.

He has to keep them safe.

He promised them.

"Shut up." They flinch at the tone of his voice and whimper softly. "I was only meant to stay here temporarily, remember?" He hears them suck in a breath, as though he had just punched them in the gut as he said that.

"B-but… You- W-we could- I thought we w-were a fffamily?" Their words come out broken and confused, voice thick with emotion as they try to wrap their head around the situation. "B-Brass, I l-love-"

"So? I never said I love you." The worst part of that sentence is that it's true. He never told them to their face that he loved them.

And now they will never know how much he really does love them.

They let out a cry once more, and a thump is heard as they fall to their knees.

"Br-Brass? W-why… Y-yyou, I- Br-Brass, p-please…!" Sobs wrack their frame as they struggle to form a sentence. He turns his face away and hides it against his "mama"'s shirt.

He's sorry.

He loves them.

He loves them so much.

Please stop crying.

He didn't mean it like that.

Please.

Don't cry because of him.

He's not worth it.

She starts to laugh at his human's distraught state, turning away from them as she walks towards the door.

"How pathetic." He clenches her shirt tightly in his hands, grinding his teeth together because how fucking DARE she say THAT-

"BRASS!" A broken scream pierces the air as they call out to him. "BRASS PLEASE! I'M SORRY! DID I DO SOMETHING WRONG? PLEASE I'M SORRY! I-I'LL DO BETTER I PROMISE! DON'T LEAVE ME!"

"God you're so annoying." She lifts him up to her shoulder and forces him to look behind her as she puts a hand onto the doorknob. "That's how pathetic you used to be." He stares at his human on their knees as tears and snot run down their face, hand reaching out to him desperately as they shake and tremble in front of him. They whimper and wheeze, wiping at the tears and snot futilely as they continue to babble senselessly to him.

"Pleasepleaseplease _PLEASE_ don't GO I'll be better I promise I PROMISE please _I love you_ I loveyouIloveyouIloveyou pl-PLEASE BRASS DON'T _GO_ PLEASE-"

"Fuck-" His voice breaks, and he clears his throat and tries again. "Fuck. OFF." This stuns them into a broken silence, their eyes wide with hurt and pain and undisguised misery and suffering, and he did this to them HE DID THIS they didn't deserve this, he doesn't deserve them he should have just died on the doorstep instead of going with them to his new home-

They curl up on the floor and let out a low, keening wail as his "mama" opens the door and walks out of the house.

As she shuts the door, he hears them give out one last heartbreaking scream, one last cry of his name.

She walks away from his home, his single family member, and all he can do is watch as it disappears as she turns the corner.

Something wet streaks down his cheekbone as a soft patter resounds around them.

It's raining.

\=\

The TV blares loudly in the background, and he's finding it hard to sleep with all the noise distracting him. Grumbling to himself, he wraps the thin cloth of a blanket around him more tightly as he stares at the brown walls of his cardboard house. His "house" is sparsely decorated with a cheap plastic table, chair, and toy TV making up the furniture, excluding the uncomfortable doll bed that he is currently lying on. His old clothes are still here, though it is only a few shirts, a pair of pants, and a spare jacket. They all came with his adoption, which meant that his "mama" didn't have to go through all the trouble of buying him more clothes.

The cardboard barely muffles the sounds of the woman's laughter as she cackles loudly at the TV, uncaring of the small skeleton's need for sleep.

Mama.

He feels disgusted with himself every time he is forced to call her that. She is no mama to him. Thoughts of his human return to him, and he buries his face under the covers as he remembers their sobbing face when he left them.

Are they okay?

Did they remember to eat dinner tonight?

Are they coping with work fine?

Did they treat the cuts on their face?

He couldn't help but worry for his- no, for THE human as his thoughts focus on their needs, and he remembers that he is supposed to be there caring for them. They need him, and yet he hurt them so badly that he's unsure of whether or not they'll be okay after that.

He still hears their scream at night.

They called out for him.

But he didn't respond.

He wishes he did.

But wouldn't that have just made it even worse for them?

It is better for them to hate him, he concludes.

It doesn't matter how much that thought hurts him.

He hurt them more than he was ever hurt by his "mama".

He has them to help him heal.

But they have no one.

A shudder escapes him as he cries silently.

He misses them.

\=\

He's unsure of how many days have passed since he was taken away from them, but he doesn't want to start a count since he figures that he will never return to their house. They probably hate him by now, for leaving them alone like that.

Like how he was left behind by his "mama".

He's no better than her, he figures.

He hopes they hate him.

\=\

He finds himself avoiding the windows, fearing that he'll get a glimpse of them and that they'll get a glimpse of him. So he spends his time hiding out in the cardboard house, using whatever writing implements his "mama" decides to bestow upon him as a way to relieve his boredom. Quietly, he starts to scribble over the walls and floor of the box, doodling little things he remembers from their house as a way to make his abode more welcoming.

A vase is carefully scribbled on the wall with a little table under it.

The couch he spent so much time on is doodled next to it.

His closet is drawn around the spot that holds his clothing.

An old, outdated phone is doodled on the floor with Slenderman taking up the screen. He regrets drawing Slendy almost immediately, thinking that maybe he might accidentally summon the horror into his home by doodling it into his cardboard house.

But then he realizes that it might actually be a good thing. That way, Slendy can come and kill his so-called mama, and then maybe his- the human might take him back in.

He could apologize to them and tell them that he loves them, he loves them more than raw meat, more than cakes and cookies and pastries, more than the misshapen house they made together.

But that will never happen. Slenderman is supposed to be an evil, terrifying creature that kidnaps people for who knows what. There's no way something like Slendy would take mercy on him.

He doesn't deserve mercy anyway.

He made them cry.

\=\

She's screaming at him again, for what reason he has no idea, but she's angry and is taking it out on him. Objects are being thrown at him as he only makes half an attempt to dodge them. Whatever, if one of them crushes him, he wouldn't give as much of a fuck as he used to. As a pen smacks into his temple, he merely shrugs the pain off and lets the bitch blow off some more steam.

"Useless!" Huh, yeah he is.

"Piece of shit!" He doesn't think he smells that bad.

More insults of the same caliber are thrown at him, but it doesn't hurt like it used to. If anything, he agrees with them as he narrowly dodges a pair of scissors that's being flung at him. Nothing she says to him would ever hurt as much as seeing them sobbing for him to stay.

"GET OUTTA MY SIGHT!" He nods and walks obediently back inside the cardboard house. The insides are completely covered in his scribbles and doodles, and it almost seems homey if not for the raging asshole that's living outside his confines. It's like a personal hell that he willingly participates in, if only to punish himself for whatever sins he believes he has. As he stares up at the bare flaps that make up his roof, a weak knock comes from the front door. Angry grumbles come from the woman as he listens to her stomp across the house. The door slams open as she screams a "WHAT DO YOU WANT?" at whatever poor soul happened to be behind the door.

"I-I… Um…" He bolts upright. It's them. His human. He shoves past the poor cut-out of a door his house has and runs towards the front door. "I have… cake?" And they have CAKE. He couldn't remember the last time he had sweets since he was taken away from them.

"Give me that!" She snatches the cake from their hands and shoves them out of the doorway. "Bye!"

"No wait-!" The door slams shut before he even gets a chance to catch a glimpse of them, and he skids to a stop before the bitch. She looks down at him with a disgusted look, her gaze switching from the cake to him as a smirk forms on her lips.

"It looks delicious doesn't it? Sorry, but you're not getting a single crumb from this cake. It's all mine." She strides away into the kitchen, and he watches from the corner of the doorway as she cuts into it, the cake already missing a slice as she cuts out a larger piece for herself. The insides of the cake seem… off. He squints at the brown lumps in the cake as she takes a huge bite out of a slice without looking. She chews for a bit before her eyes go wide, and she spits the cake out into the garbage. And then it hits him. "What the hell is THIS?!"

"Beefcake."

"What?" She turns to stare at him, daring him to say more. He looks at the cake and then to her as he grips the doorway under his tiny phalanges.

"Beefcake. It's the cake my- the human and I were making when you came to take me back." They finished it. They left the slices of raw beef in the batter and baked the cake just like that.

He's…

He's not quite sure what to make of that.

"Well, it's gross as hell! Just like you I suppose."

"'S somethin' me and the cake have in common." He remembers the pun and fingerguns, and a part of him wants to laugh while another part wants to cry.

"Whatever. Get rid of this. It's completely disgusting and I don't want to touch this shit ever again." She leaves the kitchen and barely manages to kick him, catching the side of his ribs as he tries to get out of her way. Rubbing the now sore spot, he walks into the kitchen and climbs onto the table. The cake is chocolate flavored, and the raw meat he added in is thoroughly cooked through. It almost looks like chunks of weird chocolate, which explains why the bitch bit into it with wild abandon. He thinks she wants him to throw it away, but since she never specified how she wanted him to get rid of it… He breaks off a piece of the cake, noting that it's warm to touch and eats it slowly. The cake tastes sweet, albeit a little meaty. He takes a piece of meat and eats it with the cake, only to immediately spit it out.

Yeah.

That tasted gross.

They were right when they said that beef and cake would taste gross together.

He wonders if they ate some of the cake already. That would explain why there was a slice missing. He smiles as he thinks about the face they would have made as they ate the cake. Knowing them, they probably would have tried swallowing what they ate before heaving it up painfully. What even drove them to bake this mistake of a cake?

He stuffs more of the cake into his mouth as he realizes how long it's been since he's had a decent meal. His mind wanders as he thinks about his- the human. What possessed them to come over here with the cake? He wouldn't past them to try and get rid of this cake by passing it off onto the bitch and him, but at the same time, he knows that they were too nice to try and give people bad food on purpose.

Was it because of him?

This was the last thing they did together; a cake that was created with petty-revenge-meat and chocolate flavoring. He swallows hard as he continues to eat.

They wanted to give this cake to him. There's no other way to explain it. Why else would they come here, stuttering like they were afraid of something only to offer a cake in goodwill? He keeps eating even though he's already full, choking briefly before continuing with his obsessive eating.

Warmth radiates from the cake as he continues to eat, sniffling every once in awhile as he continues to eat until he can't possibly stuff another crumb into his mouth.

They never give him stale food.

\=\

The cake managed to last for a week before he finished off the last crumb. He even managed to eat the meat, deciding that it tasted better separate from the cake.

He still couldn't figure out why the bitch wanted him back, other than to use him as an object to vent her anger out on. She didn't even care for him properly, making him wash and clean himself in the kitchen sink while she watched TV and amused herself. Sometimes he's got to get his own raw meat, yanking the freezer open with his magic and carefully cutting himself some grub before he gets caught by her.

One day however, she grabs him from out of nowhere and starts dressing him up, changing him out of his old, worn clothes and putting him into some newer, uncomfortable ones. They're stiff and hard to move in, but she's too busy fussing over him to care that he's uncomfortable. By the time she's finished with him, he's in brand new shiny clothes that she probably stole from some Ken doll. His bones are as white as they can be, and he's practically sparkling when she sets him down on the coffee table.

"Don't move," she growls, going to her room and slamming the door shut. When she comes back out, she's wearing nice clothes with makeup adorning her face. She goes into the kitchen and makes a loud ruckus as she does what he assumes is cooking, but the crashes make it sound as though she's trying to be a drummer instead. The doorbell rings, and she rushes out of the kitchen, smoothing out her clothes and opening the door with gusto. A rush of excited voices flows through the door and a group of women enter her house with flourish as they take in the scene. When their eyes land on him, they squeal in delight and move as a group in his direction, gushing over his clothes, his size, and, apparently, his cuteness. He sits there and lets them do whatever, not bothering to protest when they try looking under his shirt to see if he really was a skeleton.

"I made snacks!" The bitch comes out carrying a tray of food, and they all leave him in favor of the treats that she made. As they all sit around the coffee table and gossip about whatever was happening in each of their respective lives, it clicks in his mind why she wanted him back so suddenly.

She needs a pretty little dress up doll to impress her friends with. As if on cue, the bitch pulls out a plate of fresh, raw meat, chattering about how she absolutely loves him and spoils him just a little, and hey, wouldn't one of you like to feed him? It's time for him to eat anyway! The women all jump at the chance to feed him by hand, and they each get a chance to feed him small chunks of meat, watching him chew and swallow as though he is a spectacle.

Although, that's probably what he's supposed to be, given by how smug and pleased the bitch looks as her friends fawn over him. It pisses him off how she can get away with treating him like a doll, so he starts to sulk a bit.

"Hey… Is he okay?"

"What's wrong little guy?"

"You were pretty calm earlier, are you grumpy about something?" Her friends focus more of their attention on him, and an idea comes to him. He doesn't have much to lose, so he looks up at her friends and nods.

"I was just thinkin' about something."

"Oh! What was it?"

"Well…" He looks at his "mama" and smirks. "Wanna see what my… mama gave me?" They all grin and giggle, thinking he's going to pull out some cute item that he cherishes or some shit like that.

"Of course, sweetie!"

"Alright…" He slowly tugs off his jacket, rolling up the sleeves of shirt as the smiles on their faces drop off with shock. As he moves to roll up his pant legs, the friends start gasping and mumbling to themselves.

"H-Hey, are you-?"

"Haha, well I think that's enough of that!" She swoops in from above him, snatching him away from of her friends as they stare at her with uncertain eyes. "I'm just going to let him spend some time in his room-"

"I don't HAVE a room-"

"-where he can rest and not be bothered!" She takes him to her room, locking him up in her closet without a word as she rushes off to reassure her friends that nothing's happening. He smirks to himself as he rolls down his sleeves and pant legs.

Just because he is a skeleton, it doesn't mean that he couldn't bruise. He does bleed, after all.

\=\

After that revealing moment with his "mama"'s friends, he had been getting more beaten up as the days continued. She shoved and kicked him around more often, sometimes even personally hunting him down and kicking him against a wall until she was satisfied. He figured her friends didn't take well to seeing him covered in bruises, especially after she told them that she spoiled him just a bit. With that, she made it her business to make his life more miserable than before.

No more pens or markers.

Raw meat and pastries were given it tiny, small amounts to ensure that he didn't go crazy enough to eat her, but wasn't satisfying enough to keep him content.

Every time she saw him, he was punted into a wall before he could react.

His cardboard house started getting abused as well; water was occasionally "accidentally spilled" on top of it, on its sides, and sometimes seeping into the bottom. Sometimes she'd kick the house when he wasn't outside, yelling and screaming obscenities for a while before leaving him alone.

The only times where he was free of her presence was when she went to work. When he heard the door slam and lock, he'd wait for five minutes before creeping out of his house and climbing up onto the window sill. With nothing else to do, he'd stare out the window and watch as the world continued on without him. He wondered how hi- the human was doing without him and would find himself waiting to see them return from work.

He didn't know when he started watching for them from the window, but ever since the day they came by with the cake, he felt a need to see them once more, just to see their face again even if they didn't see him. After that, he was content with sitting down and waiting for it all to end.

So he waited. And waited. And waited. Diligently, he waited for them to pass by his window with the hopes of seeing them one last time.

But the bitch always came back before he could see them.

It was frustrating, knowing when they'd be coming home, only to have her come back an hour earlier than them. He bet that she didn't even make as much money as they did, since she was nothing but a lazy asshole who probably made her co-workers do all her work and took all the credit.

Yeah, she was a bitch through and through.

However, that didn't stop him from keeping watch by the window sill day after day.

It reminded him of when he hoped that his "mama" would come back for him.

It reminded him of how he wanted to avoid seeing them because he thought the sight of them would just hurt him even more.

But this was nothing like those times. He knew they loved him, and now he understood that he returned the feelings with fervor. He was never going to live with them ever again, but that was okay.

All he wanted now was to see their face one last time.

\=\

The door slams shut. He hears the car door open and then shut. The car starts up, and he counts to ten under his breath, before peeking out of his house and walking slowly over to the window sill. He moves the curtains aside and peeks out, making sure that the woman has left for real before taking his seat in front of the window. The sky is cloudy, and the outside is composed of shadows and grey as he waits for them to appear. As far as he is concerned, there's a chance that today is the day they come home early from work. Or maybe it's their day off, and they're going to get groceries. Is it the weekend? He isn't sure, but the woman is always out nowadays, so it doesn't matter much to him.

Slowly, the day darkens as he continues to wait, staring hopelessly out the window as rain starts to patter against the glass. He wonders if they remembered to bring an umbrella with them, or if they decided to try going out with just a raincoat and had hoped for the best. If they catch a cold again for being reckless and an idiot, he swears he is going to-

A person is walking along the sidewalk, a raincoat wrapped tightly around them as they carefully avoid the puddles and briskly walk on. He stands up, hands pressed against the glass as he tries to figure out who it was. Is it them? Did they forget their umbrella again? Would he see their face? The person slows their pace, and he feels his soul jump inside him

They turn to face the house and-

It is them.

The two of them lock eyes, and he watches as an array of emotions flashes in their eyes. What are they feeling? Sadness? Happiness? Pain? Shock? ...Disinterest? His hand curls against the glass, wanting desperately to push open the window and run out to them, to cling onto their leg and beg for them to take him back. He watches as they shift slightly, turning towards the house before their head snaps to the side as they see something approaching before briskly turning away from him and walking away, their pace faster than before.

"No, wait, come back!" He slams his hand against the window, watching their back as they leave him behind. "Please… Come back." He sinks down to his knees and presses his forehead against the glass, tears threatening to pool over as headlights shine in the dark.

"I… I miss you…"

\=\

She didn't take kindly to seeing him by the window, waiting for the previous human to take him back. So she taped up his door and refused to let him out of the house ever again, dropping in his food through the roof and refusing to let him bathe or clean his wound.

His head started to itch horribly after a while, and he found himself scratching desperately at the door in order to be let out. If he was going to die, he was going to die with dignity, not because of maggots.

He found that scratching at the door did no good as the tape proved to be impossible to remove from his side of the box, so he started digging at the opposite wall instead. Slowly, he scratched out a small, Brass-shaped hole that he could escape out of in order to clean his head wound and hopefully scavenge for scraps in the kitchen.

It was yet another stuffy day in the box when the bitch takes her routine leave. After he waited and counted to ten, he escapes from his confinement, shimmying between the small space between the box and the wall it's pressed up against and making his way to the bathroom. After giving himself a good cleaning, he heads into the kitchen and looks for any scraps. Sadly, today just isn't his day as he finds nothing to help relieve his hunger. He growls to himself before heading back to his jail. Just before he starts his shimmy back inside, he looks over at the window sill and stares at it.

Maybe…

Is it worth the risk?

Well, what else could she do to him?

He abandons his safety and heads towards the window, climbing up onto it and sitting in front of the drapes. The clock ticks quietly as he waits for them to appear, hoping that today would be his day. The sky grows darker as he continues to wait, his hope growing weaker and weaker as he stares out the window.

Today WILL be a good day.

It WILL go his way for once.

It just has to.

He doesn't leave his perch until he sees the headlights shining through the dark, but by then, he isn't sure whether or not he cares if she crushes him under her foot. In the end though, he slips down from the window sill and shimmies back into his box. As he crawls onto his bed, the sounds of drunken yelling echoes inside the house.

So much for having a good day.

\=\

She was coming home drunk more often, for what reason Brass didn't have the energy to bother with. The food was coming along more and more infrequently, and he found himself finding new ways to break into the fridge and pantry. A routine was made for him as she'd leave in the late morning and come home at odd hours of the night as, giving him the chance to feed and clean himself before settling down in front of the window to watch for them. It was a routine filled with tension as some days she'd come home earlier than he'd suspect, giving him barely enough time to make a mad dash for the box before she kicked the door open and begin her drunken rampage.

Those moments frightened him the most, as there was no telling what she would do to him in her drunken rage. Last time almost resulted in him drowning - the only reason she let him resurface for air was probably because she didn't want to lose her punching bag so soon.

As he climbed back onto the window sill to wait, he vaguely wondered how long he would last until he was dusted by her. The lights in his eye sockets dimmed as he hunched forward, waiting in vain for the one human he hoped still cared for him.

\=\

His sockets are trained on one area of the sidewalk as if something will magically appear before him. The clock ticks softly behind him, and he shifts slowly to glance at it.

1:43 pm. She must have left a couple hours ago. He looks down at the new scratches covering his humerus, radius- no, he doesn't have the energy to list out all of his bones. Scratches covered his boney arms, making him sigh in exhaustion as he tries not to recall what happened the previous night. Who knew human nails could dig that deep? His arms hurt like hell, and he hadn't been able to sleep well for the rest of the night because of that.

The clock continues to tick as he allows himself to flop onto his back. It's okay to nap, right? She wouldn't be back until 10 pm at the earliest, if he recalls correctly. He sighs again and closes his eye sockets. It'll be okay. He'll be able to wake up before she comes back. As he drifts off into sleep, thoughts of his human slowly seep into his mind.

_They were smiling at him, sitting at the table with their laptop opened up to some web page. There were images of other BittyBones on it, and his human hummed softly as they scrolled through._

" _Hey, you're not lonely when I leave for work, are you?" He was resting against their arm as they clicked through the images, teeth worrying at their lip as they continued to browse aimlessly._

" _Nah, I'm fine by myself."_

" _You sure?" They looked away from the website to scrutinize his face. He shrugged in response, avoiding their pointed stare as he looked at the images of the other skeletons. Some were happy, others were grumpy, and one of them looked like he was always on the verge of crying. He didn't see any other Brassberries though, so it at least assured him that they weren't planning on replacing him with some other Brassberry._

" _Yeah, I'm sure." Before he could stop them, they scooped him up gently in their hands and bring him up to their face._

" _Absolutely, positively sure?" He snorted and rolled his pupils._

" _Yer bein' ridiculous." They huffed indignantly and nuzzled his skull._

" _I'm not! I just wanna make sure you're not lonely when I'm gone. I'm okay with adopting others, plus you'll have a bigger family and they'll be your size and your house can be less empty. Plus wouldn't it be fun to hang out with Bitties your size and-?"_

" _Slow down there." He pressed his hands to their lips and gave out a short laugh. "I'm fine with just the two of us." They pouted and spoke with his hands still on their lips._

" _But aren't you bored when you're by yourself?"_

" _Well, sometimes but-"_

" _Aha!" They pulled back, triumphant as they adjusted him to sit in one hand. "You wouldn't be bored if you had someone else to hang out with!" He sighed and rubbed his skull._

" _Yer really insistent on this, aren't ya?"_

" _Mhmm!" They shoved him in front of the screen and clicked through the images. "Soft Bones looks real cute, but it says that he sleeps a lot. Maybe he won't be that great of a buddy for you…? There's also Sansy and Cherry, and a few others from the Papyrus section…" They trailed off as they clicked past more images absentmindedly._

" _Hmm…" He examined each of the Bitties carefully, reading each of their descriptions before settling on a few. He figured the more mild ones wouldn't be too much of a pain to live with, and they seemed more likely to obey him if push came to shove. "Maybe these three…" He pointed to the chosen trio before sitting back in their hand. "Not that you have to adopt them. Like I said, I'm fine with just the two of us." They grinned at him with a knowing look._

" _Sure, Brass." He huffed in annoyance._

" _I mean it."_

" _Riiiight."_

" _I ain't lyin'!"_

" _Brass."_

" _Huh?" He looked up at them in confusion, the change in tone throwing him off just a bit._

" _Brass!" He flinched, glowering at them as he rubs the areas where his ears would have been._

" _No need to yell, I'm right here."_

"BRASS!" He sits up with a shocked snort, turning his skull this way and that as his eyes catch sight of the clock on the wall. 8:47 pm. Shit, so much for a nap. Incessant tapping from the window drags his attention from the clock, and his pupils meet a familiar pair of warm, gentle eyes.

It's them.

Once they see that they have his attention, they motion for him to stand aside. He blinks in confusion, not understanding what they want.

"Uh…?" They look over their shoulder and a muffled "Move over!" is heard as they wave more insistently. His mind is still foggy with sleep, and he only just remembers the reason why there is glass between the two of them. It isn't until he realizes that they're holding a BRICK (how the hell did they get a hold of one first of all-) in their hand and waving it around that he understands that he has to stand aside quickly. Once he stands off far enough, his human brings their arm back and chucks the brick at the window.

They both watch as it bounces off, neatly smacking into his human's face and making them stagger back from the force of the brick. As they cover their face in absolute pain, it occurs to him that maybe they were standing too close to the window and that maybe the window is a lot thicker than they anticipated. He rushes back to his previous position, banging his fist against the window in worry.

"Holy shit, are you okay?!" He barely makes out a muffled, pained groan as they slowly pull their hands off their face. Given the window between them and the distance they created from the impact, he assumes that they must be in terrible pain if they uttered a groan that loud. Their nose is bleeding like hell, and he thinks that maybe there's a cut on their forehead as well. They try to wipe the blood away with their sleeve, but it just makes them wince in pain as he figures out that ah, the brick probably broke their nose too. It does look a little smushed. He covers his face and turns away from them.

He shouldn't laugh.

He really, shouldn't laugh.

But holy shit, that was hilarious. The brick just, BOUNCED off and into their face-

His frame starts to shake as the giggles escape him. Never did he imagine that he'd bear witness to something so tragically stupid, and yet here was his human delivering it to him with a brick and a window. He should be feeling worry and concern for his human, but he just CAN'T when there's a bright, red rectangle in the middle of their face, and oh god, they should have remembered that windows are thicker than before, and lord help him he can't breathe that was like something straight out of slapstick comedy-

Tapping on the glass brings his attention back to them, and he's wiping tears away from his sockets and oh no, it's obvious now that he's been laughing at their pain, and the annoyed pout they give him only makes it WORSE-

It takes a while, but he eventually calms down, gasping for breath as he straightens up looks them in the eye with only the _slightest_ of giggles. The bleeding has calmed down a bit, and they're looking absolutely determined and resolute as they press a clean hand against the window.

"I'll come back. And definitely get you out of there." He can barely hear a word of what they said, but their lips and eyes deliver the message clearly, and he nods solemnly before they pick up the brick and quickly jog back in the direction of their house.

He probably should have reminded them to go see a doctor first before coming back for him.

Oh well.

\=\

When they come back, they're wearing a cast on their nose that's illuminated by the moonlight. He has to fight the urge to laugh at how ridiculous they look when they approach the window. It's 8:53 pm, and his human looks as determined as ever. They wave for him to stand aside, and he complies, wondering what they're going to pull out of their jacket this time.

It turns out to be a hammer, and Brass can't help but get his hopes up as they swing it at the window.

One swing, and the glass cracks.

Another swing, and the cracks spread farther.

A swing, and another, and another, and the cracks form a web of white as they continue to pound away.

It feels like an eternity has passed before he hears the glass shattering as the hammer's head finally breaks through. They slam the hammer all around the weakened glass, making a gap that's big enough for them to safely reach in and grab him. He runs to the gap and hugs their wrist as they grab him, and it isn't long before he's being cradled against their chest.

He almost forgot what it was like to be in a loving embrace as warm as theirs. They kiss the top of his skull as they tuck the hammer back into their jacket.

"Come on, we should-" Headlights shine in the darkness as her car approaches, catching the back of his human as their eyes widen. "Fuck." Is it ten already? It couldn't possibly be ten so soon. She isn't supposed to be here yet. Why is she back so early?! They both hear the engine rev up, and his human is off like a bullet, running through yards as he clings to their shirt. They're running behind trees, hoping to use them as a shield in case she decides to drive off the road when they approach the corner and suddenly, there are no more trees to hide behind.

It all happens so quickly.

One moment he's with his human, and the next, he's skidding across the grass as his human throws him like a bowling ball. There's the screech of the tires, followed by a heavy thud and a pained cry, and then everything is silent.

A car door opens. Footsteps pad heavily in the grass. He remains where he lies, hoping that he's small enough to blend in with the grass. But the thing about being a skeleton is that he's an off-shade of white, and any shade of white can stick out like a sore thumb when you're outside at night and the moon is shining brightly in the sky.

He wishes it was raining.

The footsteps stop, and he feels a hand roughly grab him and pick him up quickly, the air whooshing around him as he's brought up to her face, beer-stinking breath making him gag as she breathes into his face. She sneers at him and gives him a firm squeeze, making him gasp in pain.

"You're not getting away from me, brat." She drops her arm, forcing him to stare at the ground as her arm lightly swings with the motion of her stride. He lifts his skull up and looks for his human desperately, because whatever has happened to them sounded it painful, and he can only hope that maybe, hopefully, it isn't too damaging.

But he knows he's lying to himself.

Because there they lay, crumpled in the grass in front of her car, blood staining the ground as they lie there unmoving.

He can't breathe.

_Move._

Their body shows no signs of anything.

_Move!_

Please say they're still breathing.

_MOVE!_

Please. Please please pleasepleasepleasepleasepleASEPLEASE _PLEASE_ -

He doesn't realize he's screaming until he's being shaken by her, and he barely registers her voice when he feels something snap inside him. They're dead. They're dead and she killed them. They didn't do anything wrong. They didn't deserve this. They didn't deserve to die like this.

She needs to die.

He needs something. A weapon.

But what can be a weapon?

_Anything can be a weapon._

The hammer.

He doesn't have to think. He barely even moves. His magic grabs the hammer from his human's jacket, and he hears the woman screech in shock. Ahaha, how funny. Is she scared of him now? He's dropped to the ground as she runs for her car. No can do, darlin'.

He raises his arm and swings it forward, throwing the hammer at her head. It hits her with a dull thunk, and she falls to the ground. His magic takes the hammer back, and he's walking over to her with easy strides. She's whimpering, crying in pain and screaming pathetically.

What a baby.

She tries to get up, but he can't have that. He's not done with her. Not yet. The hammer smashes into her leg, and she screams, but he doesn't hear a crack so he does it again.

And again.

And again.

It's so annoying how humans are covered in meat and muscle. He's close enough to her that he can see her feet struggling to push her forward as she tries to crawl away in vain. With a sigh, he drops the hammer and flips her around with his magic instead. She cries out in shock, but then screams as he smashes her kneecap with the hammer.

"We can't have ya goin' back to yer car, _mama_." He smashes her other knee cap, and he smiles when the satisfying cracking of bones is heard and blood is seen seeping through her pants. "Yer drunk, it's illegal and dangerous to drive when drunk, you know." He flips her back around and examines her hands as they try to push her away from him. Those have to go next he concludes, seeing as this position allows him easy access to the other bones. He walks up to her face and studies her, noting with disgust the tears and snot running down her face. She whimpers and cowers before him, pleading loudly for him to have mercy. He thinks a house turns its lights on, but he gives zero fucks for what the others think.

No stranger is stopping him from ending her life.

They wouldn't understand.

He smiles.

"Hey, what was it like hitting them like that? Did you enjoy it?" The hammer is raised and comes crashing down on her hand. She screams as the small bones break and tries to pull her hand back. He tuts and beats on her arm instead, digging the claw of the hammer deep into the meat and making the grass shine with her blood. Once the hammer starts to scrap bone, he turns it around and slams it down, cracking the bone open and ripping a scream from her throat. When he's sure that she can't pull her arm back to keep him from his task, he returns to breaking each and every little finger on her hand, not stopping until he's sure each of the bones are damaged in some way. Her hand bleeds as some of her bones poke through her skin, bright specks of white that shine with liquid, dark red, and it's a morbid image he swears he'll have committed to memory after this.

"Because then you can understand how I feel when I do this." He's about to crush her other hand when he decides against it. Nah, he can have it as a snack. No sense ruining his meal with little splinters of bones getting in his way. Besides, it'll be hilarious to hear her scream while he eats it in front of her. Maybe he'll even snack on her arm too. It's not like she can do much with one arm anyway. "Yeah, keep screaming, you bitch." The hammer moves to her back instead and smashes a rib, followed by another, and another. He misses a few times, hitting flesh instead of bone or scapula instead of rib, but it doesn't upset him one bit. Any injury is a good injury.

"Puh-please, st-stop it!" Crack.

"Nah." Crack.

"It HURTS!" Crack.

"I s n ' ?" Crack. She sobs weakly as the pain makes her quake and shiver. Moving more will only make the pain worse, but he's not telling her that. He's aiming for her temple when he hears a weak groan from behind him. He freezes and turns slowly to face his human's body.

They groan again.

They're _alive_.

He drops the hammer and races towards them, concern and worry filling up his mind as his human trembles weakly. He's on his knees in an instant, and he pushes their hair hair out of their eyes, watching as they blink blearily at him. They're out of it, in pain, barely conscious, and he can read their eyes like a book, and he sees, just barely sees the relief that's hiding behind clouds of pain as they see him, and he can only hope that they can see the relief he feels when he sees them breathing and alive.

"Are you okay?" They don't respond, but instead they keep still and watch him and blink, because he knows the answer already but he wants to hear them speak, to reassure him that they are okay. But they're not. They need help and he has to find some way to help them. He strokes their forehead gently and gives them a skeletal kiss, pressing forehead to forehead and whispering "It's going to be okay" and "I love you so much" because he won't let them die, he _won't_. Not after all of this, not after finally telling them what they deserved to hear so long ago.

He's going to protect them. He will protect them because they've been trying so hard to protect him, despite their weakness and wimpiness and faint-heartedness-

But they're so kind, and sweet, and gentle, and he loves them more than the world. They're weak, but that's because they're scared to harm. They're a wimp, but that's because they can't force themselves to fight at full strength. And they're faint-hearted, because they can't bear to see someone in horrible pain. He knows this now. In his eyes, they're the most selfless human he knows. Even now, in pain and barely awake, their eyes are focused on him, only him, for him, and he feels _loved_ and _wanted_.

He has to help them now. They're bleeding and maybe dying so he has to find medical help somehow.

"Hey, you have your phone on ya, right?" They give a soft grunt and he takes that as a yes, so he uses his magic and pulls it out from their pocket. The screen is cracked, but he can still use the emergency dial after using his human's nose to dial (he says sorry beforehand), and a voice crackles through the speaker.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"Hi, uh, my…" Shit what was he supposed to call them? His human? Would that sound weird? Probably. His owner? Nah, they might find his papers or something and more shit might go down. His parent? Uh. Family member? Hm, yeah that works. "My family member got hit by a car."

"Can you give me a description of your family member?" This is getting unnecessarily difficult.

"They're uh, androgynous…? I-I don't know their birth gender, I was uh, added into the family… late?" This is a wreck of a conversation.

"Do you know their approximate age at least?" No, no he doesn't. Oh god.

"Uh, they're an adult, definitely."

"...Alright. Are they conscious?" He looks at their eyes and notices how they're barely hanging on. Shit, he's got to hurry.

"Yeah, they are, but they're gonna lose consciousness real quick so can you please send an ambulance right away?" He can't keep the frantic worry out of his voice as they let out a wheezing gasp. "Please, they've been lying here for, I don't know, a long enough time that it's starting to really freak me out!"

"Sir, I need you to calm down." He takes a deep breath and clenches a fist. Right, freaking out isn't going to help them.

"Okay, okay, I'm… I'm calm."

"Good. Now, they're still breathing, correct?"

"Y-yeah, but they're startin' to wheeze, so they might be having a hard time now."

"Okay, can you give me an address so that I can send an ambulance?"

"Yeah, we're at the corner of-" A ragged scream startles him and he barely turns his head fast enough to see the hammer above him come down and he's grown soft he should have killed her when he had the chance and the last thought he has is-

He still doesn't know their name.

/

You're in the hospital, connected to machines with wires attached to your arms and surrounded by sterile walls that look so sickly white they hurt your eyes. It's been a few days since the incident, and you're staring blankly at the wall when the officers come in. They question you, and you answer as truthfully as possible, since you've got nothing to lose.

You tell them how you broke her window to save Brass, how she hit you with her car, how you came to with Brass hovering near you face reassuring you and getting your phone to call 911, and how she killed him instantly with a hammer. They fill in the details with what they know, of a neighbor had heard screams and called 911 before Brass, how he had apparently been beating her with the hammer, possibly with the intent to kill, and how she had crawled over to you in attempts to protect you from the "dangerous monster". You force yourself not to get upset at them and tell them that he wasn't doing any harm to you, and that she was lying. They state that they have records of the call made by your phone, noting your scream and a male voice gasping.

They don't mention the cackling laughter she made when she killed him.

You still have nightmares with her laughter in the background.

It ends with them stating that you'd have to be fined for the property damage you willfully caused to the lady's house, but that she'd have more severe charges due the bodily harm she inflicted upon you, as well as driving under the influence ( _who knew, you think bitterly_ ) and pet abuse.

You clench your fist at that statement. He's not a pet. He was his own skeleton, perfectly capable of his own thoughts and feelings and he was MORE than just a pet, he was FAMILY.

They lay a plastic baggy on your lap and thank you for your time before leaving the hospital room. You look down and examine it.

It's filled with dust.

HIS dust.

Your hands clutch the baggy desperately and you cling to it tightly, heavy sobs wracking your frame as you hug the remains of your beloved skeleton.

_He deserved better than this._


	3. What Can I Possibly Do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Contains scenes of violence and bodily mutilation.

Once you were discharged from the hospital, the first thing you did was deal with any and all legalities that had to be dealt with. It took a while, but once it was all done, you were finally free to mope around the house at your leisure. The first thing you did after completing everything was finding a proper jar for Brass' remains, and after some hemming and hawing, you finally settled on a small, dark gray urn in the shape of a heart. It was expensive as hell, but you thought it was worth the money once you gently shook the dust into the urn and set it up carefully on your dresser.

When you finished the deed, you sat on your bed and cried.

It seemed like you would never run out of tears.

/

Sometimes you think you hear his voice resounding from the living room, and you find yourself bounding into the living room with a silly grin on your face because it turns out, you've been having a nightmare and of _course_ he's still alive and well, why else would he be yelling about Candy Crush again-?

"Brass?" You call out his name, but no one responds. Looking around the living room, you spot his little house in the corner and peer into it. There's no one inside, and when you search your own house, you find that the only living soul that is in here is you.

But that can't be right, because you heard him not too long ago.

He's just playing a joke on you and is probably hiding and laughing his ass off.

It's just a joke. A sick, cruel joke that has you on your hands and knees as you sob and cry because he's alive, you know he is, you heard him not too long ago.

Just make this nightmare stop, and everything will be fine.

In the end, you tire yourself with your sobs and go back into your room. He'll eventually come out of his hiding place and crawl into your bed anyway.

When you see his little urn sitting on your dresser, it hits you harder than the brick or car ever did, and you find yourself laughing in spite of it all.

What a sick joke you just played on yourself.

/

It's her fault. She ruined everything and took away the one good thing in your life and _killed him_. You find yourself screaming and kicking around a pillow in your room as you imagine her stupid face in your mind. It's easier to just vent your anger out on the pillow, imaging it as her as you beat on it relentlessly, picking it up and slamming your fists down onto it.

As you punch it, you imagine breaking her nose for hurting him all those times.

You launch it across the room, pretending that it's her body as it smacks against the wall, and you pretend that you can hear a satisfying thud against it as you think about driving it further into the wall.

You kick it, and you imagine her begging for mercy as you kick her gut until she coughs up blood, and you think _good_ that's what she deserves after everything she's put you both through.

You slam your foot into it, and you think that you can hear the satisfying sound of something breaking beneath it, maybe her skull or ribs. You do it again, and you think you can hear her screams of pain and it makes your heart race because you've never thought that revenge can be this sweet.

It isn't until you're trying to rip her head off with your bare hands that you realize that it's still the pillow that you're beating up, and despite all your aggressive energy and spite, you still don't have the strength inside you to rip the pillow apart. You tug, and tug, and tug, but it doesn't let up.

In the end, you scream in anger, frustration, and grief as you toss the pillow aside.

It's useless.

/

_He's standing at the doorway, back facing you as you scream for him to turn around._

" _Brass!" He turns his head and looks at you, and you can't tell if he's looking at you with sadness or disgust. He shoves his hands into his jacket and continues walking forward. "Brass, come back! Please!" You reach out to him, but once you grab onto his small frame, he bursts into dust, and your hands are covered in his dust and there's her laughter and it's ringing and ringing and ringing and you couldn't do anything but watch it's your fault YOUR FAULT-_

You scream, sitting up in bed and gripping your hair tightly. You've had various versions of this nightmare ever since the night he died. If you had simply outstretched your hand, then you could have saved him from his fate. But you couldn't, because you were weak and injured and maybe if you'd run faster you could have stayed behind a tree or something-

Deep breath. It's just a dream. Breathe in and out.

It wasn't your fault _(but it was)_.

It wasn't _(stop lying to yourself)_.

Stop it _(accept it)_.

Groaning, you get up and head to the kitchen. There's no way you can go back to sleep like this, and the thoughts will only get worse if you keep marinating in your feelings like a rotten piece of meat rolling around in expired sauce. It makes you feel gross.

The first thing you see when you open the fridge is a piece of cake neatly wrapped up on a plate, with only one bite revealing that it had been eaten once before, or at least an attempt was made. It was the cake you and Brass made before… that day. You pull it out and examine it.

The cake has grown mold from the amount of time spent in the fridge, and you think the meat is changing colors as it ages terribly. Despite its utter grossness, you find yourself putting it back into the fridge instead of throwing it out. It's the last thing you made with Brass before things all went to shit, and even though its presence is taking a toll on your appetite, you keep it in your fridge anyway. You close the fridge, not wanting to eat anything after seeing the cake. So instead, you sit on the couch and pop in a movie.

By the time you finish watching the _Titanic_ , you're sobbing your heart out, but it's not because Jack died.

/

The silence is suffocating, so you find yourself turning the TV to fight off the sense of loneliness and pain that surrounds you once it dawns on you that there's no hope of someone ever coming back to spend time with you. Your diet has woefully turned into one that consists of ramen and cheap TV dinners that taste like cardboard and wet paper towels. Going to work is worse, as your colleagues whisper behind your back while your boss gives you a disapproving look no matter what you do. You can't go back to the bar though, because memories of her plague your mind whenever you think of beer and coming home drunk.

So instead, you buy cheap liquor and lock yourself up in your house, drinking only enough to feel buzzed, but not enough to get drunk. It's like your old routine, but now it's tainted with regret and shame when you think about how Brass was killed by someone who was pretty much shitfaced.

You end up upending the bottle in the sink, only to regret it later and trying to drink the last remaining drops in the bottle before giving up and dumping it in the trash. As you bury your head in your arms, you think about your worth in the world compared to his.

To be honest, you think that both of you are worth about the same, seeing as no one else would want to take care of either of you for various reasons. But you think, and think, and think, and realize that no, you're wrong. He's the one who's worth more than you could ever live up to be. Someone else could have taken care of him if you died instead, and he would have lived a happier life than the one you would attempt to give him.

You should have died, you decide as you close your eyes. Yeah, it would have been fine if you just died.

/

For a while, you don't leave your house to do anything. Eventually, you go back to work only to have your boss tell you that you're fired.

That's fine.

You don't care.

You just locked yourself up in your room and hug his urn.

It's tiring trying to live anyway.

/

You're awoken by a knock on the door. The state that you're in screams volumes of your mental state, but you can't find it in you to care as you shuffle to the front door and give it a cursory stare. Another knock makes you groan, and you slowly unlock the door and open it just a crack so that you can peek out and you see an ex-colleague smiling and waving cheerfully as you close the door on them. No, you are not in the mood for this. The knocking resumes and you sigh again, so you open it once more and stare at them with tired eyes.

"..hullo."

"Hi!" They smile cheerfully, and you can't help but find their happiness annoying.

"'Kay bye." You make to close the door but they just stick their foot in the way, making you groan once more.

"No wait! Listen, is it okay if we… talked?"

"Why?"

"Well, you don't seem so well, and I was worried after I heard you were fired after missing work for so many days and-"

"Do we even know each other that well?" They flinch at that, and you can't help but feel that something about this situation seems… similar.

"No, but uh, it wouldn't hurt to try to get to know you… now?"

"Bye."

"Wait!" They still haven't removed their foot and now they add their hand to the mix. "Can't I come in for a bit, please? It's raining, and I'm kinda cold…" It was? You hadn't noticed. But, well, it wouldn't do you or them any good to keep them out, so you let them in begrudgingly as they take in the state of your house.

It's a complete mess. There's boxes of takeout and ramen containers overflowing the trash can, clothes are strewn about haphazardly, and the couch is a mess of blankets and pillows. The only thing that's remotely alright is Brass' old little house, which you often find yourself carefully dusting whenever it looks uncared for.

"Ah… Hmm…" They turn to you with a smile, and you note how they don't comment on the mess. "So-"

"Why are you here?" They flinch and nervously rub their arm.

"U-uh, well… It's just that, sometimes… Being a bystander doesn't do much good."

"Meaning?"

"I'm uh, I'm also your neighbor? Well, sorta." You raise an eyebrow. "I'm in the neighborhood, sorta." They shove their hands into their pockets and sit down at your table. "So, uh, is it alright if we talk for a bit? At least until the rain lets up. You know, for conversation's sake. Just, friendly, neighborly banter!" You consider your choices and sigh, deciding that there's nothing else you can do, so you go and get some glasses of water.

It's going to be a long while until the rain stops.

/

After that day, they've been coming over more and more often, bringing over food to eat with you, stating that "it would do you no good to eat takeout and ramen for the rest of your life". They helped coax you into cleaning up your house a bit, and brought over packets of tea so that you can both enjoy something that isn't tap water while you conversed. Or rather, they talked and you listened.

At first, you tried to keep them away from you, pretending that you weren't home and not responding when they talked through the door. After a few hours or so, they'd leave, only to come back and continue knocking. The routine would continue until you relented and let them in. Now that they'd taken to mothering you, you could do nothing but let them have their way. It was a lot easier than trying to protest against them, after all.

They're going through your fridge when they let out a shocked cry, pulling out the moldy cake and holding it far away from them.

"Oh god, gross! I'm gonna throw this out!"

"NO!" You yell louder than you intend to, hand outstretched to the cake as they turn to you in surprise.

"...but why would you want to keep this? It's all fuzzy and weirdly colored."

"It's got… really special memories attached to it."

"Does it?" They put it back in the fridge after giving a long look, before going over to sit down across from you at the table. "Maybe you can tell me about them?" You're unsure as to whether or not you should just tell them these things. After all, you barely know them, and they barely even know you. They kind of just forced their way into your life for no reason, probably due to pity at the workspace or something.

They still haven't told you why they're doing this.

You keep your lips shut tight and shake your head.

"Nuh uh."

"Aww, why not?"

"Why should I?" They pout and rest their chin on their arms.

"Because sharing memories and stories is fun!"

"But I barely know you. I don't even know why you keep coming over here." Guilt flashes across their face before they look out the window, avoiding your gaze.

"I have my reasons."

"And what are those?"

"Things I'll tell you about… later."

"Why not now?" They shrug in response and fall silent. Minutes pass as you tap your finger against the table when an idea sparks in your mind. "Okay, how about a trade?" They look up at you in shock.

"A what? For what?"

"A trade for information. I tell you the story behind the cake if you tell me why you came over here in the first place." They hesitate, glancing from the window to their fingers, before up at you, before back to their fingers and to the window once more. The cycle continues for a bit longer when they let out a sigh and rest their head back on the table.

"Alright. I guess you have a right to know anyways. I was bound to tell you sooner or later. But um, please don't be mad?" They look up with pleading eyes, and you nod slowly. At least they give you a warning to brace yourself.

And so they tell you of that night, when they woke up to screams echoing in the neighborhood, tortured cries as someone begged their assailant to stop. It was loud and frightening, but they turned on the lights and immediately dialed for the police. Shortly after, the screaming subsided for a bit, and they thought that they were too late when they heard another scream, a voice different from the first. They ran out of their house and looked around, abandoning their phone as they ran to the source of the screaming.

That's how they found you, sobbing and grasping at pile of dust as the particles flowed through your fingers easily, and a bloodied lady who had a hammer poised and ready to swing at your head. At first they tried to pull her away from you, but she ended up screaming in horrible pain so they stopped that and instead wrestled the hammer from her grasp. It was terrifying how she tried to take it back, crawling at them with only one arm pulling her forward while her legs jerked and twitched behind her. Pure adrenaline must have been fueling her, and when they looked back over to you, you had passed out from whatever injuries you had sustained, hands covered in dust. Never before had they felt more relieved to have the police come into the neighborhood. An ambulance followed after, and when they finished with the eyewitness report, they were free to go back home for the night.

It was hard to fall back asleep. What was even worse was when they bumped into you occasionally at work, recognizing your face from that night and realizing just how terrible you looked after the ordeal. They noticed more often your absences from work, and when you were fired, they couldn't help but feel guilt build up from the lack of action they did.

"If I had done something that night, maybe things would have been different, you know? I felt like, if I had done more to help you, then maybe you wouldn't be like…" They gesture to you and your house. "Like this. Was… Was it that traumatic?" You bite back a rude remark, because yes being almost killed and having someone killed in front of you is a bit traumatic. But you sigh and breathe in deeply.

"Someone died that night." They blink in confusion.

"But I didn't see a body. And I'm pretty sure the lady survived despite all the… blood."

"Yeah, well, she killed someone. My family. He was that pile of dust you saw." You're bitterly tracing shapes onto your table, refusing to look up at them as they suck in a breath.

"...Oh."

"Yeah. He and I made that cake." You don't have to look up to know that they're staring at the fridge. "It was the last thing we made together before… a lot of bad things happened." The clock ticks quietly on the wall as they nervously tap their finger on the table. Neither of you say a word for a while, before they speak up again, voice hesitant as they try to sum up the courage to prod deeper into your story.

"Was it… fun? Making the cake?" You stop tracing shapes as a small, very small smile slowly forms on your lips.

"...Yeah. One of the best times we had honestly." They hum softly before coaxing you to continue. So you tell them about the beefcake and the energy and effort that went into it. You tell them about the recipe, the batter and the raw meat, and Brass' reactions to your puns (they grimace when you recite the puns, and you think that Brass would have found a comrade in them), but your voice wilts as you recall her coming to your house and demanding him back. "That cake is kinda like a memento of that day, y'know? It's one of the few good things that resulted from that time, and I'd like to keep it around for as long as I can. I don't want to forget the good parts of that day." They hum thoughtfully before nodding slowly.

"Yeah, I can see that. But y'know… the beauty of sharing stories is that it helps you remember them in the long run, 'cause you recited them to other people to listen. Sure, maybe some details get lost or exaggerated. But," they tap at their temple with a smile, "it's still here in the end. And memories can remain for a long time as long as you keep using them. It's okay to hold onto mementos." They look to the fridge again and shake their head. "But sometimes, it's best to let them go instead of keeping them around for too long."

/ - \

You opened up to them a bit more after that. Sometimes you traded stories with them, stories about Brass and maybe even more intimate memories, like that one time your ex cheated on you with your supposed best friend, or how one time your parents forgot you at the department store for half the day. But most of the time, they were about Brass, because memories of him are always happier and more fun to tell. You depended on them a bit for company, but you still keep them at arm's length.

It's why you don't tell them about the nightmares.

The ones where Brass leaves you, only to turn to dust when you try to get him to stay.

Or when Brass does nothing but stares at you, accusing you with his eye lights before being smashed to bits by a hammer.

A lot of them center around Brass, and each of them has you waking up in a cold sweat with a scream just barely escaping your throat. Each time has you crying your eyes out before you get up and get a glass of water to calm down. A particularly bad one has you jumpy the next day, and your neighbor notices almost instantly. They reach out to touch your shoulder, only to have you flinch in response. Their eyebrows bunch together with concern as they watch you closely.

"Hey… You alright?"

"Yup." Blatant lies are easy to do nowadays. They're not convinced, however, and the next thing you know, they're sitting you down on the couch and shoving a mug of steaming hot liquid into your hand.

"So." They sit down on next to you, tapping a finger on their knee. "What's bothering you?"

"Nothing." You take a sip of the drink. It's… boiling water. It's literally hot water. You stare down into the mug with obvious confusion.

"You didn't even look in the mug before taking a sip. I bet you thought it was supposed to be a comforting drink, but really, you have nothing in your kitchen to make anything of the sort." They study you more closely, so you put down the mug of hot water and stare them down.

"Maybe I was thirsty."

"If you say so." The stare down continues before they sigh and lean back against the couch. "I'd think you'd trust me enough to tell me more things." You shake your head.

"I just don't want to."

"Why not?"

"Sometimes it feels better not to say."

"Does it?"

"...Sometimes." They give you a sideways glance before flipping on the TV. As they idly switch through the channels, you pick up the mug and start drinking from it again. You don't know why, but hot water tastes a lot different from lukewarm water.

"...Hey."

"Hm?"

"We're friends, right?" You consider the question quietly, sipping as you think about who this person is to you. Brass was your family, and by extension, your one and only friend. You hadn't really spent that much time with your neighbor, but they seem a lot nicer and open than the others in your past. You shrug.

"You seem more like a mothering hen to me."

"Ouch." But they smile, nonetheless. "Well, I consider you a friend. So if there's anything you wanna talk about, or if something's bothering you, don't feel bad about bothering me, yeah?" They turn back to the TV and watch settle on Animal Planet. You stare into your mug.

"...I'll keep that in mind."

/ -\

"BRASS!" You wake up with your hand outstretched, still trying to grab at him from your nightmare. Even in the dark, it looks as though your hands are covered in dust. Frantically, you wipe your hands off on your blanket as your breathing slowly calms. You close your eyes and take deep breaths. Easy now. Your eyes find the urn shining brightly with the moonlight hitting it, and your breathing gets a little shaky.

Dammit.

You get up quickly and head to the kitchen, stumbling along the way as you trip over his house and nearly crash into a wall. When you make it into the kitchen, you quickly grab a clean glass and fill it with cold water. As you chug it down, your mind slows down as you focus on the water that's flowing down your throat. Setting down the glass, you make your way to the couch and turn the TV on.

There's nothing good to watch, but you really need the background noise as you sprawl out on the couch. You think back to what your neighbor had proposed to you a few weeks or so ago when they noticed you shaky appearance.

Maybe you should tell them about your nightmares. A part of you feels sick thinking about telling them about your dreams, and you're still hesitant with becoming closer to them, but damn do you need someone to talk to. You cover your eyes with a throw pillow and close them. Maybe if you just meditate on the thought a little longer…

You wake up to the sound of knocking on your door, pillow tossed onto the floor with the force of your sudden sitting up. Looks like you fell asleep with the TV on. Whoops. You fall onto the floor as gracefully as an egg, narrowly missing the coffee table in front of the couch before shooting off to answer the door. The face your neighbor makes only serves to help sink in the fact that you probably look like a mess right now.

"You uh… just woke up…?"

"Yup." You move aside to let them in, and they take notice of the active TV, as well as the glass that's sitting on the counter. The food they were carrying in their hands is left next to the glass, and they move over to the couch and sit down on it. You plop down next to them, not bothering to use the bathroom or look remotely decent. Today was just one of those days, with the exception of your neighbor appearing.

"So…" They look you up and down once more before looking down to study their hands. "You're uh, TV was on. But you just woke up, apparently."

"Yeah."

"Wanna explain or…?" They let the question trail off, and you're half tempted to ask them to get you some food, but you wave away the idea before it escapes your mouth. Now you're faced with the prospect of having to tell them that actually, you've been having nightmares since Brass died and nah, you're feeling pretty shit. It's a very direct message, and you're unsure as to whether or not you still want to tell them that. Seems kind of heavy, to be honest.

"Maybe later."

"Okay." They smile pleasantly and watch the current channel the TV is on. The chatter coming from the TV helps keep the room from being silent as you mull over your thoughts.

Tell them?

Don't tell them?

You recall being drunk, or tipsy at least, when you first opened up to Brass. Should you try that out again…?

...No. He wouldn't like that at all. The whole reason why you stopped coming home sort of drunk was because he didn't like it. If you started going back to drinking to express your feelings, he'd be very disappointed in you. It wouldn't serve his memory well at all.

Brass would want you to open up about your feelings, right? Or at least, to take care of yourself. Avoid getting hurt, that was a big one with him. Would this count as hurting? Yeah, probably. But emotional pain is harder to talk about. You're still flip-flopping on whether or not to tell them when they clear their throat.

"Sooo… You hungry? We should eat." You blink in surprise, mind still processing the words as you stare at them blankly.

"...Eat?" They raise a brow in amusement and snort.

"Yes. Eat. You know, substance. We need substance to survive. Food." They mime eating with their hands and mouth, making you snort in reply at their light mocking.

"Yeah yeah, I get it." You can't help the small smile that forms on your face as you get up. "What did you bring this time?"

/ -\

You wake up with a start, the sun shining brightly through the window as you rub your temple wearily. The nightmares haven't been lessening at all, but at least you stopped waking up screaming. Or at least, you don't wake up screaming as often. It's a nice change. The sunlight hits his urn, making you squint as you indirectly look at it. You'd think you would have stopped tearing up every time you see it, but time has proven you wrong as you sniffle and wipe away the tears before they fall.

You still feel guilty, and while you hoped to have waited it out, the guilt and pain don't seem to want to leave you. It's a terrible pressure that you can't get rid of every time you're reminded of his death, and you can't figure out how to get rid of it. For now however, you have to get ready for the day before your neighbor comes over. Your day lightens a bit whenever they come over to visit, and gradually, you learn new things about them.

You've learned that they like to eat pumpkin pie, but they limit their consumption of it to Thanksgiving and Christmas. They live alone in their house and often sing loudly to fill the house up with noise. Sometimes they chew on their nails when they're nervous, and they absolutely despise horror films. They like to cook, but they cannot for the life of them bake. One day, they hope to find someone they love and live together with them. They hope to have a family with that special person, adopting, what was it, three cats or three dogs (even though they're allergic to animal fur) with a few kids either adopted or made with their own genes. For some reason, they have an irrational fear of seagulls after hearing a story from their elementary school teacher about how a seagull had gotten stuck in her hair after trying to steal her food.

Sometimes you wonder if Brass would have liked them. Maybe he would have picked on them a bit, making all of you sit down to watch a horror film just to scare the shit out of them, only to scare himself in the process. The thought makes you laugh, and a bit of the pressure eases off. Yeah, maybe Brass would have liked them.

A familiar knock on your door brings about your attention, and when you open it, they're standing there presenting you a tray of brownies. The pastries smell terribly burnt.

"You wanna try them?"

"Am I allowed to decline?"

"Nope!"

"...oh."

/ -\

They were so earnest on having a sleepover, DESPITE the fact that the two of you were, in fact, ADULTS, and were in no shape or form young enough to have sleepovers. However, the hopeful look on their face only made you weak to them, and you ended up agreeing.

So here you were.

Pushing the couch farther away from the TV so that there was enough space for them to sleep on the floor.

"This is gonna be so much fun!" Oh god they were just like a kid. With a grunt, you straighten up and look at them from their position by the kitchen doorway.

"Have you never had a sleepover before?"

"Well, uh…" They sheepishly look away and study their nails. Uh huh.

"I see." You gesture to your movie collection. "Wanna pick out the first of the movies we're gonna watch?" They brighten up so much that you have to fight the instinct to shield your eyes from their sunny disposition. You turn away to protect your eyes from their happiness, going back to setting up your living room to accommodate for two people sleeping in it. By the time you're both done, they've picked out a sizable stack of movies for the two of you to binge watch, and you've decked out the couch and floor with enough pillows and blankets to drown at least one person.

It looks great.

"So, ready?" You both settle down on the couch and start off with the first movie on the stack. It's a classic, and you're amused by the choice they decided to start off with: _50 First Dates_. Looks like you're starting this sleepover off with a classic.

A good six or seven movies in (they all just started to blend together), they start to yawn and nod off, cueing you to turn off the TV and to gently shove them onto the floor while you get the bed. Originally, you had wanted to sleep on the floor, as any good host should do, when they refused and insisted that you take the couch, stating that the cushions are too hard for them to sleep on. You were a little bit insulted for your couch's sake, but now as you lay on top of the old furniture, the cushions do feel a little bit hard and uncomfortable.

"Night!" They call out to you from their position on the floor.

"Night." Without much fanfare you both fall asleep.

…

_It's quiet. You're tempted to say "too quiet", but that's a cliché that's been used more than necessary at this point. As you turn your head this way and that, you find that your surroundings are featured in an annoying bright white environment with no other splash of color as far as the eye can see._

_You sit down and bury your face into your hands. It's this dream again. You take a few deep breaths and try to calm yourself down. It's okay. You're going to be okay._

_A soft cackle rings throughout the area as you stiffen. She's here already. You want to curl up, but you already know what's going to happen, so you just wait until you hear the familiar sound of something dragging across the floor. The scary thing about it is that it doesn't sound scary at first. What you hear is the faint rustling of clothes as the being moves closer and closer. And then your ears pick up more sounds. The drag of the clothes against the floor is heard, followed by the sound of something wet slinking closer. Then, you hear the pants and wheezes before all the sounds but those two sounds stop all at once._

_You refuse to look down even when you feel a hand grab your leg._

" _Look at me."_

_No._

" _I said, LOOK AT ME!"_

_You bat the hand away and get up, refusing to look at her. She screams and follows after you, the sounds coming back as she uses that one good arm to pull her forward. You're used to this, you can get away from this. It's not too much trouble, she's pretty injured after all. Eventually, you out pace her, and you're left listening to her screams from a distance as you continue to move forward._

_That's when you see the doorway._

_It's there, far into the distance, and you think that maybe, MAYBE you can get there in time. So you're running as fast as you can, and the doorway doesn't seem to be getting any bigger, but gradually, you see it getting closer, and then you see him, a tiny dot that slowly increases in size._

_Brass._

_You call out his name._

_He doesn't look back._

" _Brass!"_

_By now you can see him clearly, and his back is turned to you as he continues to ignore you._

_You try to make your legs move faster, but it's like running while you're waist deep in mud - it's nearly impossible to make them move like they normally do. It's not like you can do anything else anyway. As if on cue, an invisible wall comes up between you and Brass, and you slam a hand against it, banging on it and trying to get his attention._

" _BRASS!" Finally, he turns around and stares at you, his gaze tired and blank. He doesn't say anything, so you kneel down and try to reach for him. Your hands stop short, the wall refusing to budge as you watch him helplessly._

_It seems like that's the only thing you can do._

_And then she appears, crawling up behind Brass with that wicked grin plastered on her face. Her face is pale and covered in sweat, tears, and snot, but the rest of her is covered in blood, the little bones in her hands sticking out of the skin gruesomely as the white of her exposed radius and ulna shine brightly. Against all odds, she stands up, knees bent awkwardly and her posture incredibly off as she hunches forward, broken arm twisted and bent into an impossible angle. She backs up out of the doorway, body making sickly cracking noises as the broken bones move against each other, some threatening to break through more of her skin as she waits for Brass._

_He's stuck between the two of you, one behind a wall and the other a human monster._

_She calls out to him._

_He turns his head and looks at her._

_Without any fanfare, he turns on his heels and walks towards the doorway. You scream at him, telling him to stop, don't go, please, say something, Brass please. He stops just short of the doorway, turning to look at you with that tired stare._

_His mouth moves, but you can't hear anything. Before you can even get a word out, her foot comes crashing down on top of him. You watch as he turns into a bloody mess of crushed and splintered bones, before slowly eroding into dust._

_You're screaming._

Something shakes you awake, and it's only then that you realize that someone is saying something to you as well.

"WAKE UP!" Oh right you're supposed to be having a sleepover right now. You turn to your neighbor who, needless to say, looks freaked the fuck out.

"Hhhh?" The audible noise you make calms them down, and they sigh, taking their hands off your shoulders and sitting back down on the ground.

"Thank god you're awake. You were screaming like crazy."

"Oh. My bad." They stare at you with concern, biting their lip as though they were trying to come up with a way to ask you about your dream that wouldn't let you dodge the question. Best to beat them to the punch then. "Sorry to wake you. Let's go back to sleep." You settle back onto the couch and turn on your side, back facing them as they grunt in disagreement.

"Nope. You're telling me what that was all about." You groan and cover your head with your pillow.

"Can I not?" When silence answers you, you take it as your win and close your eyes. Of course, there's a low chance of you actually falling asleep, but you take it as a chance to avoid talking about your nightmare. It's not something you're feeling comfortable talking about just yet. Just when you think they've fallen back to sleep, you feel a weight sink in on the other side of the couch, making you groan out loud. "Dude."

"Bruh."

"Get off my legs."

"I'm not on your legs."

"Yes, you are." You kick your legs wildly under their butt as they continue to sit on them.

"Okay, so maybe I am. But it's hard to tell in the dark." You groan again.

"Let me sleep."

"I highly doubt you'll be able to sleep after all that." Well they're not wrong. But still.

"You never know."

"Please." Both of you go quiet, and the sound of your breathing becomes incredibly loud in the silence. "...So." They speak up, ignoring your impending groan as they continue. "I once worked at this bargain store for a while before I worked at the office." You stay quiet, and they take that as a cue to keep going. "The job was embarrassing, but I really needed the money to buy some food. I'm not gonna go into detail about it, but basically I had to go house to house around the local neighborhoods and hand out a flyer advertising this crazy special happening at the store. Usually, I'd wear a costume and do a little gig to keep their attention while this boombox I was carrying around did a whole spiel about the specials that were happening that week, but if it was hot, I could go around without the costume and do alright. One day, while I was in costume, I went to this house and knocked on the door. This dude comes out and sees me, closes the door, opens it and points a _shotgun_ at me." You gasp out loud, because who does that?

"No."

" _Yes_." They sound satisfied knowing they have your attention now. "It was terrifying. I make the most undignified noise ever, and the dude just says very quietly, 'Get off my property before I shoot ya and skin ya alive, ya freak.' Of course, I book it, hearing a gunshot behind as I run for my life. For a few weeks, I had trippy nightmares where I was being hunted down by this dude because he wanted my dead carcass as proof of something." They shudder quietly, and you sit up, moving to sit next to them as they continue their story. "The nights when the shots actually hit me scared me the most. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to cope though because other people have actually been shot before y'know? I just got shot at, but I didn't get hurt or killed. Plus, I didn't want to tell people WHY I was threatened. The whole costume thing is hard to explain sometimes, plus, I don't wanna get into detail about my past job." They pause, and you wait for them to continue.

"...So what did you do?" They stare at the wall before sighing and shaking their head.

"I didn't say anything for a long time, and eventually, they just got worse and worse. It was one person hunting me down, but then two, three, sometimes a whole group of people started chasing me around in the woods. 'Catch the freak,' they'd say, 'Catch 'em and shoot 'em dead!' I was just in a costume, but I couldn't do anything to defend myself. It felt real, and scary, and life-threatening, and I hated it. I just didn't know what to do. One day, my mom calls me up and asks how I was doing. At first, I told her lies about how I was doing, but she caught on real quick. She asked me why I sounded so tired, was I sleeping okay, did she need to come over? I told her no, she didn't need to come over, but she insisted, and before you know it, she was flying over here to give me a quick visit. She cooked me some dinner, and we had a pleasant talk. When it came to bedtime though, I had the nightmare again and woke my mom with my screaming. She runs into my room with a bat and looks around, and she sees me curled up on my bed sobbing because I can't hold it in anymore. So she comforts me and gives me a drink and asks me what's wrong. I give in, and I told her." They pause and look into your eyes, meaning clear even as they continue the story. "It felt like a weight was lifted from my shoulders. The nightmares slowed down and appeared less frequently, and eventually, they went away."

"...I see."

"I still get them from time to time. But they're not as bad as they were before, plus," they grin and poke your cheek, "sometimes I fight back. And it's great!" They lean back against the couch and hold your gaze, before taking your hands in theirs and giving them a soft squeeze. "Listen. I get that I don't know exactly what happened that night. It must have been terrible, considering the state I found you in." You look away, staring at the wall as they hold your hands tighter. "But you can trust me. Just, tell me what's wrong, okay? It'll help you out a lot, and maybe you'll feel better too. It doesn't have to be right now, and it doesn't have to happen all at once, but just know I'm here for you, okay?" It takes a while, but you eventually squeeze their hands back.

"...Okay." They hum happily in response.

"You'll be okay. I'll make sure of it."

/ -\

You do tell them in the end, over breakfast the next morning. They're quiet and patient, listening to you intently as they take in all this new information. You tell them all about Brass, how he was abandoned, how you took him in, and how the two of made a makeshift family between the two of you. You tell them about how she came back for him, the fight, and him leaving you behind. You tell them about the following months and how it was hard coming home to an empty house, how you felt useless and terrible for just letting him be taken like that. You tell them about the plan to rescue Brass, the brick incident, and then finally that night. When you finally finish, the tea has gone cold, and you cried a few times. They reach forward and take your hands, squeezing them in comfort as you calm down from your more recent cry.

"You did your best." Their voice is soft and gentle, and you wonder what you ever did to deserve a friend like them.

"I could have done more."

"You did all you could, and I'm sure he knows that." You shake your head and almost yank your hands out of theirs.

"You don't know that."

"Do you know that?" You go quiet, because despite your close relationship with Brass, even you're unsure of whether he'd think like that. "I bet he knows you tried your best."

"..Maybe." They hum softly before giving your hands a final squeeze and letting them go. "Let's do something."

"Like what?"

"Like clean your fridge." They grin and walk into your kitchen, gesturing you to follow. You do so slowly, and it's only when you're standing next to them that they decide to open the fridge. As they dig around the fridge for a bit, they pull out the cake that's far too gone to even resemble one. It's completely covered in grey-green fuzz, and you think that maybe the plate is starting to look a little gross too. They take it out and make to throw it away when you grab their arm.

"W-wait." They look at you expectantly, as if they knew you were going to stop them.

"Yeah?" You fidget for a bit, before taking the cake in your hands.

This was the cake you made with him.

The last good memory you made with him.

The first bad memory that contained him.

You grip the plate tightly in your hands as you continue to stare at the rotting food. You didn't want to get rid of it, not when it held such importance to you. But at the same time, you know you can't just keep clinging onto things like this, especially if it becomes gross and has the potential to make you feel worse. Your eyes shut tightly, and you take a deep breath.

It's okay. You'll be okay. It's just a cake.

You won't forget him that easily.

It's time to let go.

You drop the plate into the trash.

/-\

Things gradually change around your house as they help you clean it up a bit. Brass' little house is moved into your storage room, as they note that it can get in the way if you're not careful, and since no one was using it anymore, it's best to just put it away. It took some persuading on their part, but you ended up relenting and letting them help you carry it into the other room. You set the house down on a spare table you have lying around, and while it pains you to put it away like this, you know it's for the best and leave the room quietly. The spare phone he used is tucked away in a drawer in your room, and although you see it from time to time when you're looking for something, that pain in your chest is starting to hurt less and less, and for that, you're relieved.

Things gradually change with you as you open up more to them, and they happily accept the change with gusto, coming over more frequently and even convincing you to come out and hang out with them. The two of you go out on outings, and you find yourself slowly enjoying yourself some more. It's not complete happiness, but the small joys are enough to satisfy both you and your friend. When the days are cloudy, and the two of you have nothing better to do, you end up chatting about small things. You learn a few more things about them, like how their favorite ice cream is mint chocolate, and how much they despise the sasquatch.

You learn that their name is Casey.

It's a nice name.

Despite all these little changes, you still find yourself having nightmares. They've lessened in intensity, but they all still end with Brass leaving you and turning to dust.

"Not a lot has changed," you tell them one afternoon as you're eating ramen. "I mean, even though the lady is gone now, he still leaves and dies. I don't know why." They hum thoughtfully, taking a sip from their cup before speaking up.

"I don't know how to fix dreams, my dude. I'm no Freudian." You snort and shake your head.

"I'm not saying that I need you to fix my dreams. I just wanna know how you managed to actually do stuff in your dreams."

"Honestly? I have no clue."

" _Thanks_."

"No problem." They give you a wink as they slurp up noodles, making them look absolutely ridiculous. You laugh despite the weak dread you feel in your chest.

When you're settling down to sleep, your eye catches the small urn that sits on your dresser. That feeling of loss returns to you, and for a small moment, you feel a little more empty and a little more sad when you think about him.

By now, you're certain that he would have loved to be friends with Casey, or at the very least, he would have tolerated them more easily. You miss him, and a bit of regret settles in before you dash it away.

No, you can't be thinking like that again. It's not your fault. You did your best. He loved you, no matter what.

You did your best.

You loved him.

He loved you.

It wasn't your fault.

You close your eyes, repeating your mantra over and over again.

_When you open your eyes, you're back in that place that's terribly bright and white. Without a second thought, you walk forward. Nothing around you shows any sign of change, and you're not sure if you're actually making any progress when a familiar doorway appears in the distance. You walk towards it, keeping your pace even and calm even though every part of you screams to run, but you know by now that running won't help you out here._

_You come to a stop in front of the doorway, and Brass is there, his back to you as always. Neither of you say a word, even when you hear the familiar sound of a cackle off in the distance. You ignore it - she's not worth your time anymore. Instead you focus all your attention on the small skeleton in front of you._

" _...Brass." At the sound of your voice, he starts walking forward towards the doorway. You force back the panic you feel in your chest as you move a foot forward. "Brass, wait! I just… I just wanna talk." He stops, like he always does, and he turns his head to give you the same tired, blank stare. You swallow hard and force a smile onto your face. His eye sockets widen in shock, and he turns around completely to actually look at you._

_This is the first time that's happened. You give a weak laugh and rub your eyes._

" _Brrr-Brass, I have a lot to tell you." He shoves his hands into his pockets and starts walking towards you._

_You wait._

_And wait._

_And wait._

_...what the fuck?_

_You squint and watch him continue to walk closer to you, only it looks like he's barely made any headway at all._

" _...uh, Brass?" He glares at you, as if daring you to question his pace and continues walking. Gradually, you notice a change in him as he continues his walk. He's getting… bigger. Taller. By the time he's standing in front of you, he's about your size._

_He's quite intimidating up close. But then again, he always was pretty intimidating._

_His eyes meet yours, and they're perfectly level with yours as he lets loose a small smile._

" _Hey." The smile on your face widens and becomes more sincere._

" _Hey."_

_The two of you sit down on the ground, staring at the doorway in front of you. It's pretty awkward at first, but then you find your words and suddenly you can't shut up. You tell him about all that's happened, and he listens quietly, though you're not sure if he's really paying attention or not. It doesn't matter though, because being next to him is sort of relaxing and it eases the tensions out of your dream._

_Right. Your dream. None of this is real._

_But._

_That's okay. You just want to savor this moment._

_When you finish telling him about Casey, he turns to smile at you and says nothing. It strikes you as odd, but you shrug it off and try to strike up a conversation with him._

_It doesn't work. He just watches you with that small smile on his face and says nothing. By now, you're starting to feel the unease creep up on you._

" _Brass?" The lights in his eye sockets search your face for a bit._

" _...Are ya happy?"_

" _Huh?"_

" _I said," he pauses slightly and then leans back on his hands, looking up at the white abyss, "are ya happy?"_

" _Um…" You hesitate before answering. Are you happy? Before, when all you could think about was Brass' death, you had been miserable. But now? You're… okay. Not exactly super happy, but okay. "I'm… not happy, exactly. But I'm okay. I'm managing."_

" _You're livin'."_

" _Yeah, I am." He grunts in satisfaction and stands up._

" _That's good. I mean, it'd be better if you were happy too, but I guess you just can't rush these kinds of things." He stands in front of the doorway, and had it actually been right in front of the two of you, it probably would have scraped the top of his skull. But it doesn't, it just gives off the impression that it's actually there._

" _Brass?" You stand up and watch him with worry. He's not going to leave you now, right?_

" _Listen, I care about ya, so do me a favor and move forward, alright? Maybe don't replace me with another Brassberry," you make an indignant sound at that, "but try to be happy, at least." He winks, and the grin on his face widens a bit. "We've both had enough bullshit to last a few centuries."_

" _Brass, wait-"_

" _I gotta go." He looks at you with a regretful face before he looks behind him. "I can't stay around forever, y'know."_

" _I…" You bite your lip and look down at your feet. "I know."_

_It's silent. There's a soft rustle of fabric, and you feel bony arms wrap around you tightly, in that weird you-can-feel-it-but-not-really way._

" _You'll be okay." His voice is next to your ear, and it's soft and warm like you remember it, if a bit gravelly. "I'm proud of you for makin' it this far." You sniffle and wrap your arms around him, burying your face against his jacket while expertly avoiding the spikes._

_The two of you stay like that for a while, before he pulls away with a sad smile and backs away. You don't stop him this time. Instead, you return the smile and watch him go. Dust starts to drift away from him, as if a soft breeze is gently blowing him away._

" _So, goodbye then?"_

" _Heh. Yeah. Goodbye." He doesn't lose your gaze for a second, even as he fades away in front of your eyes. "I'm happy I got to be your Brass."_

" _And I'm happy I got to be your human." The last thing you see as the rest of him blows away is the dorkiest grin you've ever seen him make._

" _Y'know, I still don't know your name."_

/=/

You wake up, tears streaming softly from your face. As you sit up, you gently wipe them away and look out the window.

It's sunny.

You can hear the birds singing.

It's a nice day outside.

With a swing of your legs, you get up off from your bed and pick up the dark grey urn. Pressing your lips against it, you smile as you cry just a little more.

In a soft whisper, you finally tell him your name.


	4. The Gigantic Author's Note That No One Asked For

Heya, this was a story originally written for my Tumblr writing blog, but I figured with the way I was planning this story out, it was going to have to be posted for AO3 eventually, given how AO3 provides a nice, organized structure to keep stories together.  So for you lucky fellas on AO3 get the spic-and-span version of the story (previously located on ff.net) as WELL as the giant author's note (previously only available on my blog) with additional info that I forgot on the original A/N!  Joyous.

To be honest, you don't have to read this.  If you wanna skip this part, that's chill.

But anyway, to the copy-and-pasted insight into this fanfic!

With this being my largest, completed work to date, I think it’s time to clear the air on some things.

First thing’s first.   _Will there be an alternate happy ending for Brass?_

YES!  

I was being vague for a while now since I wanted to keep it a surprise but like, I figured there’d be no point in doing that for any longer, especially with the responses I got after finishing the fic (April Fool’s day special aside).  Although, it won’t BE an alternate ending, in my opinion.  You know how in games there can be a Bad End and a Good End depending on the choices the player makes?  Yeah, it’s gonna be along those lines.  Granted, it won’t be a FULL rewrite of the whole story (I’d probably cry if I did that no thanks), but it will lead to a happier ending for Brass and the reader, and Casey too if you wanna throw them in.

I hinted to this in some of the asks and the tags of one of the asks as well, so it shouldn’t really be much of a surprise that I’m doing this.  But if you wanted the confirmation, then yeah I am.  It’s only fair to Brass, really.  The guy deserves a happy ending.

Alright, now to the actual story stuff.

I usually make short snippets of A/N’s at the end of chapters but like, this one was a special case.  Not only was it originally suppose to be a Tumblr only fic, but it was ALSO supposed to be a one-shot.

That plan turned out great.  Lol.

No regrets however, because panning it out into three chapters allowed me to flesh things out and have suspense between the three main parts.  In addition, if you looked at the fanfiction.net version, you’ll notice that the chapters are actually named as well, with the exclusion of the epilogue and April Fool’s special.

Totaling up to a grand total of 34,135 words, 30,199 words excluding the special, this is by far, the longest fic that I have written that’s actually complete.  And that’s like, an achievement if my beta has anything to say about that ( _”you’ve got 30 fics incomplete and you’re telling me you wanna write ANOTHER story”_   beta dear you don’t understand the unlimited potential my imagination has ~~i promise i’ll finish the other stories i swear~~ ).  What you guys have here is a novella.  And frankly, I’m pretty proud of it.  Ten thousand more words, and it could be considered a novel (hoo boy).

Stats aside, there are some things that I’d like to talk about in the story.

Did you know there was a theme song for this whole thing?  Well, not a theme song per se, but certainly a song that helped get the story moving along.  It’s called [Eine Kleine by Kenshi Yonezu](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fvimeo.com%2F142920263&t=NzY3YjFjYTI3OGRiODBhMzcxNTlhYWRiMDEwMTc5OWU5YjZhYjZiYixDdHRKQ25mag%3D%3D).  Yeah it’s in Japanese, but it’s got subtitles so don’t worry.  I also listened to an English cover of it by [rachie](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D_efOrpKuApE&t=ZTQxZDE0MWY5ZTNlNTA3ZDdjNDU0ZThhZGNjZDYwMTEwNWQxMjk1YSxDdHRKQ25mag%3D%3D) while I was writing this fic.  As you can tell, I nabbed the title from the lyrics of Yonezu’s version, but used a line from the English cover for one of the chapter names in the ff.net version.  The translated line was too big to use as a chapter name lol.  

This song, both the original and the cover, help to inspire certain scenes in the story, such as the dream sequences that the reader has, and each and every time they call out Brass’ name.  Surprisingly, every time they called his name, Brass made it a point to either ignore or blow them off in the dream sequences.  The only time he DIDN’T do that was when they call his name relatively calmly (stutter aside).  That one instance was suppose to reflect the song’s original tentative tone when the line “Is it alright if I call your name?” was sung.  Instead of sounding like their desperate self, they call out to him with a level-ish voice, scared that he’ll still reject them like all the other times.  Luckily he doesn’t, and the smile helps sell it to him.  

The reader is also inspired by the song as well.  You can tell by how “spineless” and “weak” they are.  Brass points it out later on in the second chapter but quickly justifies it.  That doesn’t, however, change the fact that they were too afraid to act when the moment called for it the most (Brass being taken away).  It’s an important part of their character, one that they need to grow out of and/or overcome in order to grow into a stronger, more independent person.  Unfortunately, in this end, they chose to be a doormat, leading to Brass’ demise and their grieving state.  One can argue that during that fight, it wasn’t really possible for the reader to actually fight back - they were just too damn scared.  And you’re right, in this case.  If we follow their character strictly as a spineless person, then yeah what happened in the end is totally in character.  But if we look at it like an Undertale encounter menu, then we all know that they had the clear choice to fight or act.  They just never picked either choices.  But unlike Frisk, who is filled with DETERMINATION, they are filled with something else.  The lack of initiative to do ANYTHING is bad, and the worst possible outcome, as you can see, was Brass’ death.  

Oh yeah, I bet you’re wondering why there were so many rain scenes.  That’s due to [another song](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DV_iwZnWS3uI&t=MmZmZGI4Yzk5YjcxZmEyNmY4MDk5ZWU4YTYyYjc1YmVkZjNkM2I1MixDdHRKQ25mag%3D%3D).  It’s a fan arrangement aptly titled “In the Rain”, and it helped set the mood of the first chapter.  Rain is important in this fic - it represents the constant somber mood that’s shared between Brass and the reader.  If Brass ain’t sad, then it’s going to be the reader and vice versa.  It’s a symbol they both share, and while it can be seen as something that’s sad, lonely, and cold, rain is the setting in which the two meet.  Rain is what brings them together, reminds them of one another, and had it been raining the night the bitch was drunk driving, the clouds would have made the night darker, making it just a little bit harder to find them, especially if they were trying to stay out of the headlights.  It’s something that connects them to the other in an implicit way.  So as such, it portrays the bittersweet relationship they share that ends all too quickly.  

You’ll notice that the epilogue is simply titled “Epilogue” in both versions of the fic.  I did this because there was technically no Brass alive to center the fic around.  Originally, I was actually really waffling on the idea of actually posting this up and was going to add in the tag “optional read” since it seemed like everyone was here for Brass, and not necessarily the reader.  The ending that you get in chapter two?  That was how the original one-shot was supposed to end.  Just the reader, crying over his ashes.  Curtains close.  The epilogue was created because I felt that the reader deserved some closure, so I kept writing after that scene.  The second chapter grew longer and longer, so I ended up lopping off a good third off and called it the epilogue.  This chapter was a lot more complete, which is why I updated it so quickly.  When people started asking if the fic would continue, I decided that this last chapter was necessary, so I booted the “optional read” tag and just named it as “Epilogue”.  Closure is fantastic.

The cake is a metaphor.  No it’s not a lie, it’s a metaphor.  It’s a great metaphor and I thoroughly enjoyed describing rotting food.  It’s more than just “moving on and getting rid of the things that drag you down”.  It’s actually “while things may have been good before, it’s no good keeping a hold of it when it’s no longer good and actually starting to get bad.  if you keep hanging onto to them for a long time, it will slowly eat you alive and wreck you”.  I’ve used this metaphor before on another friend, except it was with a hamburger and I was less than eloquent about it.  “DROP THE ROTTEN HAMBURGER!” I said.  “MOVE ONTO YUMMIER, FRESHER ONES!”  Needless to say, she was hopelessly confused.  But the message was understood after a while of explaining.

The beefcake pun is the greatest thing I have ever written.  Ever.  I don’t care what anyone says I think it’s the greatest joke in my entire life.

Enough gloom, let’s talk about some other things.  Like how the brick scene was supposed to be badass.  Did you know that?  The reader was supposed to be super badass when they were using the brick to break Brass out.  Then a friend kindly told me after I asked them if bricks could break windows that no, technically they can’t because modern windows are just too darn tough to break with a brick throw.  Instead, it’s more likely to result in the brick bouncing off.  I was pleasantly surprised with this information, and that’s how we ended up with that one scene of comic relief.  You can thank my friend for that.  I know I did, I had way too much fun writing that scene out.  “Tragically stupid” indeed LOL.

The last scene is NOT a reference to Sans’ “bad time” speech.  It’s NOT.  It’s actually to show that the reader is, for once, FINALLY noticing the brighter aspects of life.  They’re moving on, and they can see the sun shining in all its beauty, the sweet song of the birds, and they can see that it’s a nice day outside, even if Brass is dead.  For once, their day ISN’T rain filled, gloomy, and dark.  It’s bright and sunny, and they can finally allow themselves to enjoy it.  The rain connection with Brass isn’t lost - they will probably think of him when they see the rain.  But they won’t cry when they do.  He’ll be someone who is fondly connected to the rain, and by then, they’ll have moved on from his death and come to terms with it.

Speaking of Brass, the scene where the reader and him are literally seeing eye to eye is pretty significant as well.  It reveals how they truly think of Brass (if it wasn’t obvious enough).  They see him as their equal, someone who is of equal standing to them, and to them, Brass is someone who is a bigger person than they will ever be, personality and trait wise.  Whether or not this is true is up for debate.  This is through their eyes, and how they see Brass is clearly shown here.  He’s not a pet.  He’s a skeleton who is their family.  Someone they see as a brother maybe.  Despite only knowing each other for a short period of time, they both formed an incredibly strong bond.  I guess that’s what happens when there’s only one other person you can talk to in your house lol.

Casey is a pretty important character, despite them being a very on spot character that I created.  Originally, they were supposed to be another character that you could project onto either as yourself or with someone else you knew.  They weren’t even supposed to be a character, nevertheless EXIST.  But I realized that reader can’t exactly move on past the mourning stage without some help, so Casey was introduced as a way to help them move on with their life.  A few other fun facts about Casey:

  * They are definitely nonbinary.
  * The stab to them hating the sasquatch was actually hinting to the special chapter that I later posted that day.  It’s still a joke chapter, but you can interpret it or parts of it as canon if you’d like.
  * “Casey” was the first name that popped into mind when naming them, and I was aiming for an ambiguous name.  There was also Tracey, but like, I couldn’t stop picturing them as that one dude from Pokemon, so that was out of the question.
  * Casey is totally the mom friend.  There is no way around it.



Reader learning Casey’s name after knowing them for a good while is due to this thing that I have about names and their importance.  If a character is important, they usually have a name, otherwise, they’re just some nameless character that you only see once or twice, reader inserts excluded (for obvious reasons).  Never knowing the bitch’s name is important, despite her being an important character.  She’s someone NOBODY wants to remember, yet she asserts her presence whether you want her there or not.  Casey is more subtle.  They assert their presence, but in a manner that can lead to a relationship to develop, and for the reader to actually grow attach to them.  This also applies to Brass.  He CLEARLY didn’t want to learn the reader’s name at first, because he was so sure that the bitch would take him back.  He wanted them to be insignificant to him, someone that took him in for a short duration while he waited for his mama.  That didn’t work out, and by the time he was attached to the reader, he was already comfortable addressing them as “the human”.  It’s only when he’s separated from them that he realizes that he still doesn’t know their name.  It’s probably one of his biggest regrets when he dies.

By the way, did y'all notice the weird line breakers in the fic?  Yeah, those were to symbolize the relationships that the Reader had, the first being the one with Brass, and the second being the one with Casey.  I think it's pretty self-explanatory.  Although, if you're curious to who bonded first in each of the relationships, it was Reader first in the Brass one, and Casey first in the second one.  Perspective wise, the slash on the right will always be the other partner, as seen through the narrator's eyes.  So for Brass, the Reader would be represented with the right slash, and he with the left slash.  For the Reader, the slashes change direction, and they are represented with the left slash.  The right slash is either Brass or Casey depending on the chapter.  The dashes in between also signify the strengthening of their bonds, be it with Brass or Casey. 

And that should be it.  I gotta give thanks to Ammazolie for creating such a wonderful character.  I love Brass, I really do.  Don’t be fooled by the story, halfway through the first chapter I almost changed my mind and made it a happy story.  Almost.  It’s very hard to change an author’s mind after all.  But thanks Ammazolie, for gracing us with the creation of Brassberry.  Thanks to my beta as well, who had to suffer through all of my constant tense changes ( _ ~~i’m so sorry~~_ ).  You should all thank him for making Brass’ death a whole lot more sudden.  The original was much shorter and fast-paced, intending to cushion the reader for his inevitable death, and my beta read it and was like “i’m so disappointed in you you can do better”.  So after like, two re-writes, I made a death scene that satisfied him.  That heart-breaking scene was his fault.  And to YOU!  The readers! (no not the reader insert but actually YOU)  Y’all motivated me to keep writing at the ridiculous pace I set for myself.  I never imagined that anyone else would actually read this story.  Each comment or tag or ask that people wrote/sent about the story motivated me a lot.  They seriously made my day.  

Until next time!


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